<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Iron fractals by ironheart22</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926299">Iron fractals</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironheart22/pseuds/ironheart22'>ironheart22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Volume 4 (RWBY), Romance, Volume 4 (RWBY)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:48:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>55,777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironheart22/pseuds/ironheart22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James Ironwood hears Weiss Schnee sing at the charity concert, and feels as though something inside him had woken after years of remaining dormant. What would happen if he simply couldn't allow her to become imprisoned in her room once more?</p><p>Vol. 4 exploration of their relationship through alternate POVs.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Ironwood/Weiss Schnee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. COVER</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I love them your honor. I love them so much,,,<br/>20 chapters planned, might write more. I... I don't know. I just know I'm trash for them.<br/>;;</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>                                               </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The beggining - Weiss' POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s cold in Atlas.</p><p>Colder than it ever was.</p><p>These past few weeks have been quite hard. The moment Beacon battle was over, father called General Ironwood and ordered him to escort me back to Atlas. Without questions. Without complaints. I wanted to stay with my team, but apparently, I didn’t have any word on that. The ship we took was the biggest one available. There weren’t that many to choose from, since the Nevermores had just brought down at least a fifty percent of the fleet. The ship was full of half-destroyed robots and hurt and tired soldiers. Ripped clothes, dripping blood, broken guns and muffled sighs. The atmosphere was dead silent.</p><p>But then there he was, standing still right next to the pilot. Quiet. Calm. I remember him well, looking at a starless night sky that seemed darker than ever. His hands behind his back as he turned around, now facing the remaining soldiers. Even after the fight; even after the ripped uniform that revealed his metal core; even after his tired eyes and blood-stained cheeks, he almost looked like the same General I’ve always known. He looked away from them, dubitant, and his pupils landed on mine. I know him well: he has never been good at giving speeches. I tilted my head a bit and gave him a little, sad smile; he nodded, shyly, and gave me one back. His eyes gleamed for a second and then, as if he had left all trace of hesitation behind, he cleared his throat and started talking.</p><p>“The battle was hard, and we fought as hard as we could, but the truth is I can’t really tell if it was a win or a lose. I know we lost some men, and I know I’m the one to blame for it. <em>Be sure</em>, I know that’s on me”. He said, as a tired sigh left his lips. His shoulders lowered a bit, and he shook his head in regret. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I should have known better. I should have planned our positions better, our battleships, our reinforcements. I should have been a better leader. The student…” He began, but he muttered an instant after, unable to keep going. The gleam in his eyes was gone, and he looked away again.</p><p>Pyrrha. My hands shook for a bit, but I was able to make them stop by putting one on top of another. Cold.</p><p>“Let’s rest for tonight.” He said, now facing the ship window again. “Let’s rejoice it’s over, but let’s work harder tomorrow so that this never happens again. No student deserves to give their life for any mistake that could have been avoided. If only I had known better…” He said, and looked down at his military boots. I could see that his human hand was shaking underneath his glove, just like mine.</p><p>And then, silence again.</p><p>The same silence that has been pursuing me for almost two weeks and a half now. I haven’t been able to sleep at all, and when I do, all my dreams are nightmares. I dream I’m on the Amity Colosseum cheering for Yang, and the second after, her arm is gone, she’s bleeding out, and the stadium is falling from the sky. I dream I’m in the forest killing Grimm with Ruby, only for her to be eaten by a giant Nevermore that suddenly bursts into flames. I dream I’m having a quiet breakfast with Blake at the Beacon cafeteria, and the hanging lights turn into a silver gleam that dissolves my meat, my bones, and consumes it all.</p><p>The silver light…</p><p>I still remember Ruby running up the tower with the help of my glyphs. My shaking hand, as I nervously held Myrtenaster in place so that she didn’t fall. I still remember her disappearing over the top of the tower. The strangling silence, the burning flame, the piercing cry and the silver lightning that came right after.</p><p>And then, it was over.</p><p>I haven’t seen my team ever since. I haven’t even heard from my team ever since. The moment I got home, father took my scroll away from me and sent me to my room. I still haven’t left it since I came here. Father is always busy, but I have no complaint: I don’t really want to see him anyway. I think mom is locked in her room, as always. Whitley is… well, Whitley. Twice a day I hear his footsteps echoing through the empty hallways, followed by his high-pitched, <em>peculiar</em> giggle. And Winter is, as per usual, nowhere to be seen around here. I suppose she’s in Atlas Academy, helping General Ironwood with whatever military stuff he has to deal with now. They must be busy designing new military strategies, analyzing whatever it was that went wrong back at Beacon Academy and discussing what could have been done in any other way.</p><p>The only one I've spoken to is Klein. Since I’m banned from leaving my room, he’s the one who brings me my meals. I ask him everyday about what’s happening outside of Atlas, but sadly, he never answers. He says father doesn’t let him speak about it, and even though I know I could, I’m not gonna make him spit it out. I’ll find my ways, eventually. I don’t want him fired, he’s the nicest one around here.</p><p>He’s the only one around here.</p><p>I’m bored. I’m worried. I’m sad, but I would never admit it. I want to leave, but I can’t. I never realized how big this room was until now, that I’m forced to never leave it. At least I have Myrtenaster with me. I’ve been training for the last few days: almost every book I own now has an ice-pierced hole through it. But I’m running out of dust, and it doesn’t look like father is going to provide me with any more of it on the near future. I want to save some, just in case. I’ve been practicing my summonings for the past few days, too, but to no avail.</p><p>At least, hot showers keep me from losing my mind. I’m just getting out of one when I hear someone knocking on the bedroom door. I frown, confused: it’s not time for dinner yet. I wrap my towel around me and put my cyan slippers on; then, I head right to the door.</p><p>“Klein?” I ask. No response. I frown again and open the door: Whitley. He giggles, noticing my confusion, and covers his mouth with the back of his hand.</p><p>“Hi, sister.” He says. “Aren’t you happy to see me? I thought you would, since you’re by yourself all day long. Don’t you get bored?” He giggles again, and I roll my eyes. I wish it would have been Klein.</p><p>“What do you want?” I ask, squinting my eyes.</p><p>“Me? Nothing. Father sent me. He says he wants you in his office in fifteen minutes.”</p><p>“Father?” I grunt. “And what does <em>he</em> want?”</p><p>“Yes, father. I don’t know what he wants. He has given me no further detail, I am so very sorry. But hurry up, dear sister. You know he wouldn’t like it if you were late.”</p><p>“Okay. Thank you, Whitley.” I say, closing the door again and leaning on it on my back. I sigh. What on Remnant would father want from me? I leave my room behind and step into the bathroom again, standing in front of the mirror. I don’t have time to blowdry my hair, so I’ll just brush it and put it in a high ponytail, as usual. “Maybe he wants to give me back my scroll?” I wonder, stepping out of the bathroom again. That would be nice of him, although it isn’t very likely. I click my tongue, slightly annoyed. Yes, that would be<em> very</em> nice of him, but he’s just not like that.</p><p>I put one of my many dresses on – the one with the gray-blue gradient – and a light jacket. Then I put my heels and my sapphire necklace on, I add a white ribbon around my waist, and I’m ready to go. I place my hand on the door handle, a little hesitant. I feel my heart pounding in my chest.  It’s the first time in two weeks and a half that I’m leaving my room. I breathe in, breathe out, breathe in again, and then I open the door.</p><p>Here in the Schnee mansion, the hallways are always cold.</p><p>I’m halfway to father’s studio when I realize I regret putting this short dress on. My legs shiver with every step I take, but I don’t have time to go back to my room and change clothes, so I just try to walk faster. Soon enough I manage to make it to father’s studio.</p><p>The door is shut.</p><p>And I can hear muffled shouts coming from inside the room.</p><p>I stand in front of the door, hesitant, debating myself whether I should enter the studio or not. It’s been fourteen minutes already, and, as Whitley said, I know father doesn’t like people being late. I hold my breath trying to gain some confidence, and then I knock at the door. No answer. I knock louder. Still no answer.</p><p>Well, I guess I’ll have to allow myself in.</p><p>I open the door, ready to introduce myself, but what I find behind it makes me go completely silent.</p><p>General Ironwood and father are the ones shouting at each other.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The meeting - Ironwood's POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Guilt. A dull sorrow that slowly pumps from the center of my chest and spreads through flesh and steel. I’m usually able to ignore it; at least for the most part of the day. I can handle it quite well if I keep myself busy - that’s why I’m always attending to minor meetings where my presence isn’t really needed or staying in my office checking already checked reports until it’s past midnight and my eyes are dead tired. For the past few years I’ve lived here, in the Academy: it made my schedule much easier than if I were to cross the whole city in order to get to work. However, these last couple of weeks have been a nightmare, and every night I’m on the verge of breaking down.</p><p>It always begins when I leave my office and start walking through the empty hallways: since the Academy was evacuated, the absence of the students has made silence deafening and unbearable. By the time I get to my room, the lack of air is so evident that I have to sit down on my bed in order to breathe again. Beacon, destroyed. Ozpin, gone. And what else would have happened, if that girl from Miss Schnee’s team hadn’t been there?</p><p>At least half of Remnant think Atlas is to blame for what happened back at Beacon. I perfectly understand their reasons – I don’t blame Atlas, but I do blame myself. My incompetence, my ineptitude. I feel so useless. I feel so naïve. I should have known better, and we should have been more prepared. But once again, what for, if we didn’t know?</p><p>We fear for an upcoming war. Not from the same forces that attacked Beacon, but from the other kingdoms, the ones that blame us for what happened. Relationships between Atlas and the rest of Remnant are tense; we can’t afford any more battles until the military ship fleet is restored and we sure don’t want any riots, so we’re banning Atlas from exporting dust to other kingdoms, at least until we are sure that none of them is planning a revenge on us. Jacques Schnee didn’t like the measure; he’s the head of the Schnee Dust Company, after all. No dust exported, no money for the family. That’s why he – without my consent, if I must say – arranged a meeting with me set for today, in his mansion. I’m a good friend to the family – all the Schnees and I have known each other for a long time –, and it would be rude from me not to go; so here I have been, in his office, getting screamed at for the past two hours. The only few seconds Jacques stopped his shouting was when he called his son a few minutes ago, asking him to bring his youngest daughter to the studio. I now regret coming here. I sigh for the hundredth time today, and I massage my head temples with my fingertips.</p><p>“Jacques, I already told you. I apologize if you are losing money, but if dust export isn’t banned, you’ll be losing much more if the other kingdoms decide to turn against us. Would you please try to understand…?” I close my eyes. My head hurts like hell.</p><p>“James, what you are suggesting is absurd.” He says, banging his left fist on the armchair, catching me by surprise and making me open my eyes again. I look at him, frowning. I can tell his jaws are pressed against each other. A pumping vein beats on his forehead, right where the neurotransmitter I own would be if he had one. He says that it’s for the good of Atlas, but all his body language is screaming at me that it’s not that he’s worried for the wellbeing of the kingdom, but more of a matter regarding his own selfishness and greed. The same old Jacques Schnee I’ve always known, only concerned about his eleven figures in his bank account. “The council will NEVER agree to this.” He adds, placing his glass of whisky on the table with a bit more force than needed, making the ice cubes hit one another and splattering some of the liquid over the wooden surface.</p><p>“You forget, Jacques…” I begin. My human knee cracks when I get up from the chair, and I frown a bit.  “I hold two seats in the council.”</p><p>A little, subtle sneeze that comes from the back of the room catches my attention and breaks the tense atmosphere. I turn around a bit only to see Weiss Schnee standing still right next to the barely opened door and wearing one of her many combat skirts. I haven’t seen her since I escorted her back to Atlas around two weeks ago.</p><p>“How long have you been there?” Asks Jacques, with a more than evident accusing tone in his voice. She opens his mouth just a bit to answer the question, but I will not let her apologize for something that is not her fault.</p><p>“I apologize, Miss Schnee.” I interrupt, slightly bowing towards her and giving her a kind smile, just like she did on the military ship. “The meeting took way longer than expected.” I say, giving Jacques an accusatory glance for a second before turning my attention back to her again. “I should have been gone by now.”</p><p>I head to the door, but I cease my steps when I make it to Weiss Schnee’s side. She’s shivering.</p><p>“I’d like to have a word with you when you’re finished, if you please. Would that be okay, Miss Schnee?” I ask.</p><p>“Yes. Yes, it’s okay.” She says, looking up at me with her ice blue eyes. She nods her head.</p><p>“Alright. I’ll be waiting in the hallway. Please, take this in the meantime.” I say, taking my white uniform jacket off and wrapping it around her shoulders. It’s long enough to cover her back and part of her bare legs, too. No wonder she’s shivering. I hope the jacket is warm enough. “You seem cold.”</p><p>She smiles back at me for a second. “Thank you, General Ironwood.” She says, and I lean my head a bit in response. Then, I turn around again.</p><p>“Jacques.” I say with a static tone, and with that, I leave the room.</p><p>Here, in the Schnee mansion, the hallways are always cold.</p><p>Lately, however, I believe that in Atlas Academy they seem to be even colder.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The other meeting - Weiss' POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I'm. So. Self indulgent.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>General Ironwood leaves the studio, and I stay next to the door, distracted, while I gently caress the white jacket he just gave me. He’s always so kind… It’s warm and soft, and it feels nice over my shoulders. I was starting to shiver from the cold, but I’m okay now. I wrap tighter in it, and his wooden, musky fragrance suddenly fills the air around me. I smile. Even though he’s been working all day long, he always smells really nice.</p><p>“Weiss!” Father calls my name, almost shouting. It startles me, and the bubble I was floating on suddenly pokes and disappears. I shake my head a bit, trying to put the dreamy thoughts away. “What are you doing, just standing there? Did you forget your modals while you were away?”</p><p>“No, father” I answer. “I’m sorry.”  </p><p>“Come over here.” He says. “Come on!” He hurries, pointing at one of the chairs in front of him. Father sits back on his armchair, frowning at the mess he made on the table before, when he banged his glass against it. I cross the studio, quietly looking at the shelves while I walk towards him. I know for sure he has not even read half the books he owns, but I can’t help but notice he added some new porcelain figures to his collection since I’ve been gone. When I make it to his side, I sit on the chair he pointed at, being careful not to wrinkle General Ironwood’s jacket.</p><p>“Stupid James…” He softly groans, grabbing the red fabric handkerchief from his pocket and cleaning every alcohol droplet over the table. When everything is dry again, he pinches it with his index and his thumb, and displeasingly puts it away. “Always so polite. Always so… kind” He hisses, staring at the General’s jacket with disgust. His moustache is trembling in rage. “Nonsense.” He declares, and reluctantly rolls his eyes. “Can you believe he banned Atlas from exporting dust to other kingdoms?</p><p>“So I’ve heard” I reply, absent-mindedly looking at the portrait that’s hanging on the wall behind him. There he is: all decent, all respectable, all honorable. Honestly, I don’t remember a time when he looked anything like that painting. A part of me feels guilty for not feeling any sort of affection towards him, but it always vanishes quickly: he has been no father figure after all. For all his life, he has only been interested in one and only thing: the Schnee Dust Company. He’s nothing more than a greedy, selfish man, who married mother only for fame and money. Winter knew, and she left as soon as she could; so did I, but now that I’m back again, it feels like I’m trapped here forever.</p><p>“General Ironwood thinks they are to declare war against us. He thinks they blame us for what happened back at Beacon.” He mocks, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “That’s why we will be hosting a charity concert next week, here, at the mansion. We have to show the rest of Remnant that we are on their side, don’t you think?” He mocks again.</p><p>“I…” I begin, confused. A concert. I have a slight idea of what’s coming next.</p><p>“And you will be singing.” He interrupts, resting his chin on his intertwined, skinny fingers.</p><p>Yeah, there it is.</p><p>“Everyone seems to forget that you were there, right in the middle of the battle, along with the rest of Beacon students. My daughter, a Schnee, on the grounds, defending a foreign kingdom! We need to remind them that Atlas worries, too, about what happens outside of the city. Besides…” He says with a sided smile, leaning back on his chair until it squeaks. “I believe it would make a lot of people happy. Am I clear?”</p><p>Obviously, the only think he wanted me to come out of my bedroom for was to ask - order me to do something for him.</p><p>I take a long breath before answering. Surprising absolutely nobody, father’s motives are the only thing they can be. Selfish. Self-centered. He only wants to clean Atlas’ name so that General Ironwood allows our Company to export dust again as soon as possible. It is true, however, that raising money for the people of Vale will do good to them. It will make them able to begin again. I exhale my breath, slowly, and with that, an answer:</p><p>“Alright, father. I’ll start practicing.”</p><p>“Wonderful, Weiss. That’s my girl.” He says, smirking again. “You can go back to your room now.”</p><p>“Am I allowed to go out?” I ask, hoping my agreement to his petition will make him lift his ban.</p><p>“What a question, my dear!” He says with a laughter. “Evidently, you are not. We don’t want anything keeping you distracted from your singing practice, do we? And if I find you wandering around the hallways, be sure that I’ll lock you up and throw the key away. Understood?”</p><p>I don’t even know why I asked.</p><p>“Of course, father.”</p><p>Just for how long am I going to stay trapped here?</p><p>I shut the door behind my back when I get out of the studio, only to find General Ironwood looking out of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the hallway. Even though his jacket is still covering my body, I had somehow forgotten I was supposed to talk to him after meeting with father. His shoulders are low, just like they were on the ship when we were returning from Beacon, but this time his hands don’t tremble. He’s just absently staring at the snow, falling quietly from the sky. He seems… tired.</p><p>“General Ironwood.” I say, making him look away from the window and turn around. Here, under this clear light, his stubble is more evident than it was back in the studio. He looks very handsome when he’s shaved, but I don’t dislike the incipient beard. It… it kind of suits him. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”</p><p>“There’s no need to apology, Miss Schnee.” He smiles softly. “I know for sure how long Jacques’ meetings can take.”</p><p>I giggle a bit. He has a point. I wait for him to say something, but he’s just looking at me with this soft and tender look in his face, half-smiling. I discreetly clear my throat, bringing him back from whatever he was thinking about.</p><p>“Did you want to see me?”</p><p>“Yes! Yes. Sorry, Miss Schnee.” He babbles, shaking his head and leaving the window side to approach me. “I just wanted to thank you. I heard you and your teammates did a great job fighting the Grimm at Beacon. Given the terrible outcome, I don’t know what would have been of the remaining military ships and soldiers if all of you hadn’t been there fighting along with us. But I have to say, I’m very sorry it all came out the way it did. That poor girl… And your teammate’s arm…” He grunts, lowering his sight to the floor. He stays like that for a few seconds, and then he looks at me again. “None of you should have been on the battlefield.” He sighs. “None.”</p><p>My heart crushes a little, seeing him like this. Does he feel guilty of the fall of Beacon?</p><p>“But General Ironwood, you know it’s not your fault, right?” I ask, leaning my head a bit.</p><p>
  <em>Right?</em>
</p><p>“I know.” He says, but by no means does he sound any convinced. “What happened at Beacon… it won’t happen again, Miss Schnee.” He declares, more certain now. “I won’t allow it. We are working hard to improve our soldiers’ skills, and our engineers are designing a brand, state-of-the-art new fleet. But in case, just in case it happens… I can assure you: we will be ready.”</p><p>I shouldn’t do it, but I do. I don’t know where the impulse that drives me comes from, but the next thing I know is that I’m holding General Ironwood’s hand, and that his leather glove is soft and warm. For a brief second, I can't help but wonder if the skin that lays beneath it is warm too.</p><p>“I know it won’t happen again. I trust you, General Ironwood.” I say, with a shy smile.</p><p>I then notice that the hand I’m holding is, in fact, the right one. His metal one. I always forget about it, because he always hides it under those gloves.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>I’m holding General Ironwood’s hand.</p><p>I am<em> in fact</em> holding General Ironwood's hand.</p><p>When I realize what I’m doing, I immediately think I have to let go of his, but when I’m about to do it, he gently squeezes it against mine. He’s smiling.</p><p>“Thank you, Miss Schnee.”</p><p>And he’s the one to let go.</p><p>My cheeks are blushing so hard that I have to look away for a few seconds.</p><p>“By the way…” I begin, trying to change the subject so that my more than evident embarrassment is less noticeable. “We’re hosting a charity event next week. Father wants to fundraise for the people from Vale. I… I will be singing.”</p><p>“Jacques wants to host a charity event?” He chuckles, mockingly. “How unlikely of him. He knows it won’t accelerate the lifting of the dust exporting ban, doesn't he?” He smiles, and shakes his head. “Well… let’s not tell him, alright?”</p><p>“Alright.” I laugh, too. “I suppose you will be attending…?”</p><p>“Yes, of course, Miss Schnee." He says, smiling softly. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”</p><p>“Good. I… I must go back to my room now. Father wouldn’t like it if he found me here.”</p><p>“Oh?” He asks, lifting his eyebrow. “And why is that so?”</p><p>“He… Well, I’m banned from leaving my room. But please, don’t lecture him about it. It would only make things worse.”</p><p>He sighs, resigned, and then he looks at me.</p><p>“Okay. Well, if that’s the case, I don’t want to hold you up anymore. But, if you’ll excuse me…” He says, slightly smiling as he points at his uniform jacket, which is still, <em>err</em>… resting over my shoulders. “Could I have my jacket back, Miss Schnee?”</p><p>“Oh! Of course, General. I’m sorry.” I say, gently grabbing the jacket and giving it back to him. Just a second after, a cold breeze makes me start to shiver again, and I already start missing the jacket. <em>It was so warm…</em> “Thank you for lending it to me.”</p><p>“You’re welcome. I’ll be going, then. I’ll see you at the concert. Goodbye, Miss Schnee.”</p><p>“Goodbye, General Ironwood.”</p><p>I briefly head to my room, and when I get there, I close the door with a slam and lie back on my bed, covering my face with both of my hands. It was not so obvious before, but now I’ve taken his jacket off, I can tell. I… I smell like him.</p><p>A wooden, musky fragrance suddenly fills the air.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The concert - Ironwood's POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One of the perquisites of being part of the military is that our dress code allows us to wear our uniform to any public event we are to attend. Winter doesn’t usually wear hers when she’s away from the quarter. “<em>I’m tired of wearing it all day long. It would feel like I was always working.</em>” She complains. I understand what she means, but I don’t share it - to me, it simply feels that I am, indeed, always working. Besides, I find the dress code to be very practical. I like to be elegant, but I’ve never been the kind of man that spends his free time going shopping, and I believe my uniform fulfills the purpose just fine.</p><p>However, around thrice a year I allow myself to be a bit self-indulgent and take a quick trip to Rembrandt, the tailor shop down in the city center of Atlas that provides the military with all the reglementary uniforms. I spend a good half an hour looking around, and every time I come back to my room in the Academy with a brand-new tie. I still haven’t figured out the reason why, but it somehow helps me cope with all the stress I tend to accumulate during the semester. I have been doing it for many years now, which has made me owner of a considerable huge collection of neckties. I do like admiring the beautiful gradient of colors the ties make among all the white shirts and dress pants for a few moments, when I open my wardrobe in order to get dressed. </p><p>When everything settles down a bit, I should go make a visit to the tailor shop.</p><p>Now, back to the concert outfit. I look at my mirror’s reflection, almost all dressed up. I just need to choose one of the two ties I’m holding – one in each of my hands – and button my white shirt up. For the past five minutes, I have been debating myself over which one I should wear. The one in my left hand is indigo, with a discrete, lighter stone blue dot pattern embellishing it; the other one, held by my metal hand at neck level is just plain persian blue - I find the color, though, to be very fitting for the occasion.</p><p>
  <em>Hm…</em>
</p><p>“Persian blue it is.” I say to myself, finishing buttoning my shirt up right after throwing the other tie on the bed. I lift the shirt neck up and wrap the end of the tie around it; the other end just goes behind, around, up and inside. And voilà: a perfectly executed Windsor knot. I look in the mirror one last time when I become aware of my incipient beard, and I slowly run my hand through it, feeling the harsh yet pleasant touch. I haven’t been shaving a lot lately. I used to do it once every two days, more or less - since the fall of Beacon, however, my hands have become a bit… shaky, sometimes. Whenever I try to shave, I end up with one or two unintentional cuts over my cheeks, and I have to cover them with small toilet paper squares until they stop bleeding. It usually takes a while. I don’t really have the time right now if I want to make it to the Schnee mansion in time, so I won’t shave for now.</p><p>“Alright.” I say to my reflection. “Time to go.”</p><p>I grab my jacket, briefly thinking that Weiss Schnee might need it again – and I leave my room.</p><p> </p><p>----------------------</p><p> </p><p>The theater seems bigger than I remembered. There are some punch bowls distributed over a few tables surrounding the patio stalls, one of them right next to the edge where every seat row finishes. I look around and begin to count every servant I see – I stop at twelve, but there are so many more. It seems that Jacques decided to hire some additional staff to be able to handle the event impeccably.</p><p>Everything seems perfect, but, somehow… I feel out of place.</p><p>It is not that I don’t know anybody – I’m the head of the military after all, and I have been greeting old acquaintances for half an hour now, before the concert begins – it’s just… I don’t know. Winter and I have worked with each other for a long time, and our friendship is one of my most valuable treasures. I know I can always rely on her, and I am used to her being around when it comes to these kinds of events; however, she didn’t want to see Jacques, so she decided not to come this time. She said she would anonymously donate some money to the cause, but not at this charity event – she doesn’t trust Jacques with the money. I kind of miss her presence here, anyway.</p><p>“General Ironwood.”</p><p>One of the servants touches my shoulder, and I turn my head to him.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“The concert is about to start. If you would follow me, please? I’ll escort you to your assigned seat.”</p><p>The Schnee butlers, always so well-mannered.</p><p>“Alright. We will talk later, Mister Eira. Lady Eira.” I smile, and gently nod my head to the couple before following the butler to the second seat row. With a gentle arm movement, he points to one of the velvet upholstered seats.</p><p>“Second row, seat number two. I hope the concert is to your liking, General.”</p><p>“Thank you.” I say, and the butler slightly bows towards me before leaving to the back of the theater. It only takes a couple of minutes until everything goes dark for a few seconds, and then…</p><p>There she is, standing right at the center of the stage; a beam of white light coming straight from the rigging system reflects on the polished surface of the thousands of small crystals sewed to her dress, making it sparkle. Making <em>her</em> gleam.</p><p>Weiss Schnee.</p><p>A quick thought crosses my mind - I just can’t help but admit that she is the most beautiful sight I ever set eyes upon.</p><p>At least, that’s until she begins to sing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Mirror… </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Can you hear me? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do I reach you? ...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The moment it breaks the silence, her voice strikes me like a blinding lightning bolt. It gets more and more powerful with each passing lyric – it feels as if an old handmade gold arrow pierced through my flesh at the center of my chest, violently ripping the air out of my body and tearing skin and muscle apart; and its pointy, rusty tip, stabbed me right in the heart.</p><p>My heart.</p><p>It had been a long time since I last felt it – so long that I had even begun to wonder if it, too, had turned to steel and stone. But now that she’s singing, now that I can hear the new burning flame that lives and rages and blazes inside her, long hidden behind perfectly well learned manners and whatever high standards Jacques set up for her a long, long time ago… I, somehow, can feel it beating again. I can feel it beating so hard against my chest it almost hurts.</p><p><em>“It's strange.</em>” I say to myself, unable to take my eyes off her. The metallic coat that has covered my heart for so long slowly begins to melt under the flame of her voice, and it burns me to my very core. <em>“I heard her sing many times before, but this time… this time feels different.”</em></p><p>She <em>looks</em> different – stronger, more hardened than ever.</p><p>
  <em>“Just when did she grow up so much?”</em>
</p><p>Listening to her, I wonder if I even made it to the Schnee mansion – maybe I fell asleep on my bed, and this is all a dream. I don’t know how much time passes until she stops singing – it feels like it has been an eternity and a tenth of a second at the same time – but when the echo of her voice fades out for the last time and every theatre light is lit again, it’s like someone grabbed my hand, forcefully pushed me away from Heaven’s door, and dragged me back to earth. I blink a couple of times, suddenly becoming aware that I’m not the only person in the theatre – as much as it felt like it.</p><p>It takes a while until my heart stops drumming in my ears.</p><p> </p><p>----------------------</p><p> </p><p>“[…] not really want to go, but Isaac had been so insistent for so many months that I just couldn’t say no to him. So… we booked a flight. That’s how we ended up in a four-day trip though Vacuo’s unending desert! And oh my god, <em>all those faunus</em>! Our trip guide was! A! Faunus! Can you believe? It was such a terrible experience, if I must say! Next time, I will just shush Isaac and book a room for two in Atlas’ spa resort!”</p><p>Lady Eira cackles, and Miss Baisè snickers at her anecdote while twisting her hair around one of her fingers. Isaac Eira and Martin Baisè, both well into their sixties, chatter about stories from when they were younger.</p><p>“Oh, oh! And do you remember that one lesson with Mister Valge, when he sliced that Beowolf right in half? Ha, ha, ha!”</p><p>Here I am in the impeccable white ballroom, trying my best to pay attention to everything that’s being said. It must seem pretty obvious that I am not really into the conversation, because Isaac Eira gently touches my shoulder and asks me:</p><p>“Are you okay, General? You look distracted.”</p><p>“Yes. Sorry, Mister Eira. I’m just looking for…”</p><p><em>Oh</em>. There she is.</p><p>“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen. Ladies.” A kind apology, and I leave the small committee.</p><p>“It must have been all that punch, that has he a little fuddled! Ha, ha ha!”</p><p>I can hear Isaac Eira’s laugh slowly fading away while I cross the ballroom in order to get to her. She’s in front of one of the biggest canvas I have ever seen – a very beautiful painting depicting Beacon Academy before it was destroyed. It’s part of the charity auction, I believe. She’s talking to an elegant young man, but the look in her face... She seems annoyed.</p><p>“Miss Schnee?” I ask, slowly approaching them. “Excuse me. Am I interrupting something?”</p><p>“General Ironwood!” She says; and her sudden, dazzling smile makes it hard not to smile back. “Don’t worry, it’s okay. He was about to leave. Right, Sir Merigold?”</p><p>The young man gives me an irked look before answering.</p><p>“Right, Miss Schnee. Have a nice evening. You too, General.”</p><p>And he turns around to leave.</p><p>“Was he bothering you?” I ask, leaning my head a bit.</p><p>“No, not at all.” She says, but then she looks away for a brief second and takes a deep breath before adding: “I mean, yes. Everyone seems to be here just to pretend they care, but they really don’t. They just care about showing off their wealth by donating money. I mean, it’s not bad, since it will be helping the people from Vale, but… It’s still a bit annoying.” She pouts, and then breathes out all the air she had been keeping in her lungs. “Anyways… It doesn’t matter, General. It will be over soon. I’m sorry for my rambling.” She says, trying to downplay it. “Did you enjoy the concert?”</p><p>“Oh, please, don’t apology, Miss Schnee. I can perfectly understand it. I have been attending these kinds of events for a bit longer than you, don’t you think?” I smile, and she exhales a little laugh - her tense shoulders become more relaxed. “I indeed enjoyed the concert very much. I didn’t know you could sing like that.”</p><p>“But you heard me singing before!” She laughs, and while she does, she gently places a lock of her bang behind her ear; it’s right then when I notice that the color of her tear-shaped earrings is exactly the same blue as my tie. Happy coincidence. I can’t help but smile back.</p><p>“Of course, but…”</p><p>I begin, but I suddenly get interrupted by Lady Eira’s voice, which exaggeratedly raises over everyone else’s. I think she’s a little intoxicated, because she’s telling exactly the same Vacuo story to Miss Biasè – though quite a bit louder, this time.</p><p>“A faunus! Can you believe? We paid such an expensive amount of money, only for our guide to be a <em>bloody</em> faunus!”</p><p>Everything goes silent for a couple of seconds, until Weiss Schnee suddenly leaves my side – her low heels almost banging the floor she walks on - and straight crosses the hallway to get to Lady Eira’s side. Before I can even react, she has already began shouting.</p><p>“Don’t you <em>dare</em> talk about faunus like that!”</p><p>Lady Eira looks back at her with a sarcastic grimace, and starts guffawing right on her face. The laughter echoes on the now completely silent ballroom.</p><p>“Weiss! What are you doing?” Jacques Schnee's voice breaks through the laughter, as he swiftly approaches the two ladies.</p><p>“What now, dad?” She spits, her usually polite tone suddenly vanishing away. Jacques’ face contracts in anger; his forehead vein, swollen again.</p><p>“Stop making a scene right now, or else…!”</p><p>“Or else <em>what</em>?” She yells with a sudden boost of confidence. “Will you lock me back in my bedroom again? Will you keep me uninformed, isolated from the rest of the world forever, until you need me for whatever reason occurs to you next? I’m not yours, dad. I have never been.”</p><p>“Weiss Schnee!” He shouts, ready to keep it going – when a loud, general gasp suddenly fills the air. Somebody points somewhere behind Miss Schnee’s back and screams. Everyone starts to slowly move away from her, allowing me to see what’s behind.</p><p>
  <em>Uh – oh.</em>
</p><p>A white, ethereal beast is kicking the ground with his hoofs.</p><p>I sigh, deeply resigned.</p><p>Weiss Schnee just summoned a wild boar.</p><p>She slowly turns her head to look at it and gasps, unable to do anything – her face and body frozen in terror. Everything stays still for what seems an eternity, until the animal suddenly roars and starts running straight towards Jacques Schnee. Everyone starts screaming, but right before the beast is about to knock him out, I shot my gun.</p><p><em>Bang</em>.</p><p>A low grunt, a few dust particles floating away… and it’s gone.</p><p>Jacques Schnee falls on his knees, heavily breathing. When his chest finally stops pouncing up and down, he murmurs with a deep, rough whisper:</p><p>“You are no longer the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company.”</p><p>“Wh…?”</p><p>“GO AWAY!” He screams, banging the floor with his fist.</p><p>I can feel all the judgmental stares right behind my neck, and they are not even thrown at me - Weiss Schnee remains laid back on the floor, still frozen in horror. Before the accusatory chitchat that’s starting to get louder becomes too much to handle, I quickly put the gun back in the holder and make it to her side. She is shivering. My jacket over her shoulders again, as I gently pick her in my arms and take her away from the mansion.</p><p>The moment the ship door closes, she starts crying.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The escape - Weiss' POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I sit on the co-pilot seat – the engines make my quiet sobbing barely audible inside the ship. I don’t know where the General is driving me – at this point, he could be taking me to prison, and I wouldn’t even care. I feel my shoulders shaking under his uniform jacket – not because of the cold, this time. I am angry, and broken, and tired, and hurt; and I feel like every mean word I have ever said to anybody suddenly reflects on a distant mirror and is shot back at me, twice the caliber. And I bleed.</p><p>I’m ashamed. I believe that, in another time when I hadn’t left Atlas in order to go to Beacon and I had never met my team, I could have ended up like <em>them</em> - the ones that just looked and stayed shut, glaring at someone that I would, too, have accused of making a scene. And I would have thought that they were stupid, that they deserved the blame, and the stares, and the shame. That they were being childish, and that they deserved to learn the lesson.</p><p>“<em>But luckily for me…</em>” I say to myself, slightly raising my eyes in order to look out of the window when the ship lands. We are right in front of Atlas Academy’s principal entrance. <em>“…I know better now</em>.” I know I can’t fix everything that’s bad in this world, but I do know there are things you must stand up for. My team taught me that, and I’m not letting them down – even if it costs me my family name.</p><p>I don’t need it to become a Huntress, after all.</p><p>I get up before the General does, and without a word, I gently press the button that opens the sliding door. The raw, merciless night cold hits me like a rock as soon as I exit the ship, but I unconsciously look for comfort in the General’s jacket, wrapping myself a bit tighter in it until the freezing breeze can’t kiss my skin. It really wasn’t that much time ago when I last visited Atlas Academy, but its sight strikes me as even more impressive than I remembered it.</p><p>“Stunning view, don’t you think?” The General says, slightly smiling at me from the ship’s door. He steps out, closes the door behind him, and makes it to my side – both his hands behind his back, as usual. The wind makes his tie shake a bit. I don’t respond, but I silently wonder if he's cold - I hold a smile, as it crosses my mind that he would allow himself to catch a cold if that would keep someone warm. “I feel overwhelmed every time I’m here outside, and I have been living and working in the Academy for many years now. The feeling never fades, however.” He says.</p><p>“You live here?” I ask - my voice barely audible as it gets lost in the freezing breeze when I speak for the first time in the last hour. He seems to hear me anyway.</p><p>“Yes.” He answers, nodding once with his head. “I rented a flat in the city center for a few years, but when I was named head of the military, I moved in. It simply made thing easier. Look. My quarters can’t be seen from down here, but my office can.”</p><p>He lifts his arm and points right at the top of the main building.</p><p>“Can you see that huge window up there? That’s my office.”</p><p>“Wow.” I say, slightly smiling. “The view must be wonderful, General.”</p><p>It’s obvious that he is avoiding saying anything about the mansion and the summoning, and I thank him for it; I don’t think I could handle a lecture right now. I turn my head to look him in the eyes – his dark blue irises look calm, and somehow… <em>understanding</em>. He smiles at me in such a tender way that a warm feeling starts to grow in my chest, making me realize that I’m not cold anymore.</p><p>“It is.” He softly says. “It’s wonderful living in the Academy. It’s quite a bit sad that it’s empty now.”</p><p>“Empty?” I briefly ask, slightly frowning.</p><p>“Yes. After what happened at Beacon, the Academy was evacuated.”</p><p>“But why?”</p><p>General Ironwood takes a deep breath before answering.</p><p>“Just in case we were the next in line.” He smiles sadly.</p><p>The resignation in his voice hits me like a brick, and I look away, offering no answer. We stay silent for a minute, until he starts walking towards the big entrance of the Academy – his steps, way heavier than before. That’s when I, once again – for he always seems to hide it –, realize that half his body is purely made of metal and wire. “<em>How much might his prosthetics weigh?” </em>I wonder, starting to walk after him. <em>“Doesn’t he get tired?”</em></p><p>Because he surely looks it.</p><p> </p><p>------------------</p><p> </p><p>The complete, absolute silence inside the Academy is overwhelmingly heavy, and is only shattered by the echo of our steps entering the main hallway, the one that leads to the student rooms. The white walls and grey floor make the building look colder than it really is. We keep walking, leaving door after door behind. Strangely familiar, this feeling is. It almost looks like I am back in the Schnee mansion, but I no longer remain trapped inside my room – and the truth is that it, too, feels lonely on the other side of the door. A sudden pierce of guilt makes my heart ache I'm hit by how much of a selfish person I’ve been that I haven’t even considered I was not the only one who must have felt this way - since Winter left our home and I did too, Whitley has been on his own. Father almost never speaks to us unless it’s necessary, and mother is always locked away in her room, minding her own business – and by business, I mean alcohol bottles. The Schnee mansion is just way too big for a person to be all by themselves.</p><p>Just like Atlas Academy is.</p><p>I look at the General, who has remained silent for the past few minutes. He seems lost in thought. I can’t help but feel sorry for him. It looks like everyone is in some way haunted by loneliness here, in Atlas. We all have a way to deal with it – I practice my combat skills, and I know that Whitley likes to read. Sometimes I have even heard him playing the piano - very few times, though. I do remember that before leaving, Winter used to play the violin, too.</p><p>I wonder what General Ironwood’s coping mechanism is.</p><p>“What about the rest of the military?” I ask, in an attempt that something other that our own steps would break the silence.</p><p>“Hm?” He asks, coming back to earth from whatever he was thinking about.</p><p>“The rest of the military. Where are they?”</p><p>“Oh. Sorry. I was spaced out.” He says, lifting his head just enough to look at me. “Our military is distributed over the five towers that surround the main building, which is the school itself, as you might know. It is the one that was evacuated.”</p><p>So he is, indeed, all by himself in the main building, which is incredibly big – and feels incredibly lonely. I had Klein to bring me my meals, at least, but him…?</p><p>“I see.” I respond.</p><p>And silence falls upon us again.</p><p>After what seems like an eternity, he finally stops before one of the doors; it looks exactly the same as the other hundred we have left behind. He gently places his hand on the handle and opens it with a creak. With an arm gesture, he invites me to go in.</p><p>“It’s the biggest quarter of all – the only one with five beds.” He says, entering the room right after me. “I thought you might want to stay here for a while.” He goes silent again, but his facial expression quickly changes, and he shakes his head and massages his eyelids with his fingertips. “And of course I just realize that I should have asked you before bringing you here. I am sorry, Miss Schnee. Would you like to…?”</p><p>“It’s okay.” I interrupt him. “I will stay. I don’t want to bother Winter, and I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”</p><p>Did he <em>really</em> walk us for whole five minutes just to let me stay in the biggest room of all and then have a breakdown over not asking me if I wanted to stay first? “<em>Oh my god</em>.” I think, holding back a smile. <em>“He is really the sweetest.”</em> I deeply appreciate the gesture, but what on Remnant would I want five beds for…?</p><p>“It’s perfect.” I say, and I approach the fifth bed – the other four are just two bunk beds. I sit on the mattress, which is surprisingly soft. “Thank you very much, General.”</p><p>As much as I appreciate his kindness, a sudden feeling of guilt starts to settle on my chest. I look down at my hanging legs over the edge of the bed. My feet don’t touch the floor.</p><p>“You’re welcome, Miss Schnee.” He smiles. “Alright. Could I…?”</p><p>“Aren’t you mad?” I interrupt him once again.</p><p>“Mad?” He snorts. “Why should I be?”</p><p>Is he really asking me this?</p><p>“Because I almost killed father?” I say, raising my voice a little. I know I sound confused. I <em>am</em> confused. It is so evident that he should be mad – concerned, at least, that it kind of bugs me that he isn’t.</p><p>“Miss Schnee.”</p><p>The sight of my dad about to be beaten by an unintentional dust summoning suddenly crosses my mind again – his pale, skinny face, contracted into a grimace of horror; his eyes, quickly turning from terrified to furious as he falls to his knees and starts shouting at me. I feel my mouth starting to get dry. I begin to shiver, and I embrace my legs and place my forehead on my knees, hiding away to try to hold the tremble. My voice lowers again – almost a whisper, when I ask:</p><p>“What if I had killed him, General?” I sob. “What if you hadn’t been there? I could have killed him in front of everyone. I could have…”</p><p>“<em>Weiss</em>.”</p><p>My heart skips a beat, and I lift my head. My watery eyes meet his – calm, kind, gentle. Always understanding. I think it’s the first time he has called me by my name – ever. I would remember this special feeling that suddenly grows in my chest if I had felt it before.</p><p>“You wouldn’t have.” He assures me, still standing at the doorstep. “Those kind of summons -accidental ones, I mean, aren’t even that powerful. At most, you would’ve had him sent him to the hospital.”</p><p>“Why are you so sure?” I pout.</p><p>“Because I know your sister.” He swiftly answers, almost laughing. “Winter had one of those thrown at me once – a Beowolf, if I recall, one time she was shouting at me for not taking to the council some new strategy she had come up with. And I am still here. If it’s not purposely intended to kill, then it won’t.” He says.</p><p>“Oh.” I say, and I gently wipe my tears away, one by one. I even feel a bit like laughing, too, but I don’t – I just shyly smile back at him. “I see.” I stay silent for a couple of seconds, and I finally add: “Thank you, General Ironwood. For everything.”</p><p>“Please, Miss Schnee, there’s no need to thank me. Do you feel better?”</p><p>“Yes. Yes, I do.” I say softly.</p><p>“Wonderful.” He responds with a smile. “Now, as I was saying. Before I go… could I have my jacket back, Miss Schnee?” He asks, gently leaning his arm towards me.</p><p>And once again, I had forgotten.</p><p>“Of course!” I say, jumping down the bed and quickly walking to the door. “Sorry, General. I always seem to forget about it.”</p><p>“It’s okay.” He says, and gently picks it up from my shoulders – for a moment, his gloves touch my bare skin, and I hold my breath. “Please, let me know if you need anything.”</p><p>“I… I don’t have a scroll. Father kept it away from me, and he never gave it back.”</p><p>“Oh.” He says, raising an eyebrow. “Well, then. In that case… My quarters are up on the last floor, just like my office. Just… knock before you come in.”</p><p>“Alright. Thank you again.”</p><p>He slightly bows towards me.</p><p>“Goodnight, Miss Schnee. Have a nice rest.”</p><p>“You too, General.”</p><p>And with that, he leaves –</p><p>And once again, I lay back on the bed – both my hands over my blushing, burning cheeks, that seem to have evaporated every tear residue that was left. My heart beats hard against my chest – even in my ears, too.</p><p>And I can’t help but wonder…</p><p>“<em>Why?</em>”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The mess - Ironwood's POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The moment I get to my dorm, I exhale a deep sigh and run my fingers through my hair. One thing’s for sure: I didn’t expect the charity concert to be this… <em>intense</em>. If Jacques was already furious at me because of the dust export ban, I can’t imagine how much his hate must have grown in just an hour and a half. Public arguments are everything but approved in the high spheres, and Jacques values his public image over all things - but what was I supposed to do, let Miss Schnee lay on the floor frozen in terror until he literally dragged her out of her own home? <em>Please</em>. I am still surprised that no one besides me decided to intervene at all. I’m glad I was there. I don’t really know what would have happened if I hadn’t been – for all I know, in this very moment Jacques could be at the hospital and Miss Schnee could have been locked up in Atlas’ prison as a temporary measure for criminal injury. It wouldn’t have been long until Winter took her out of there, but still… It just doesn’t seem fair.</p><p>I approach the bed and sit on the edge of the mattress; then, I take my scroll from my left pocket and slowly dial Winters number. My finger stays over the call button for a few seconds, dubitative, but I in the end, I decide to just put the scroll away again. If I were to call her, she would be here in no time, but it’s been a long night already and both Miss Schnee and I need to rest. I’ll speak to her tomorrow.</p><p>Provided she doesn’t call me first.</p><p> </p><p>--------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>I wake up all of a sudden, with my left half covered in cold sweat and both my hands, robotic and human, shaking. It takes a while until I manage to pace my breathing – my heart, still rapidly beating against my chest. The scroll’s alarm is still beeping; I turn it off with a gentle slide and check if Winter has called. She hasn’t.</p><p>I’ve been having nightmares of the fall of Beacon since it happened. I don’t know why, but for some reason, my brain seems to enjoy reminding me of all the things that could have been different – all the things that I could have done better. In my sleep, there is no night that I’m not haunted by flashbacks of that heartbreaking, piercing scream that I would have sworn could have been heard everywhere in Remnant.</p><p>I hold my right hand with my left one until the trembling stops – the metal feels cold against my bare fingers. I don’t know what is going on with my robotic arm lately. It keeps starting to shake all of a sudden, and it has never acted up like this. I think that some connector might have broke when I fought that big dog-like Grimm back at Beacon. I should probably check it out, and considering that Miss Schnee also needs a new scroll, I think that today is as good day as any other to pay <em>him</em> a visit.</p><p>On my way to the quarters, I make a stop by Miss Schnee’s new dorm. I want to check on her, just in case she needs anything before I leave for work. I gently knock on the door a couple of times. “Miss Schnee?” I ask to the shut door. I get no answer, so I suppose she must be still asleep – it was a very stressful night after all and she needs to rest, so I decide not to insist. I do, however, return briefly to my room, just to pick a piece of paper and a pen and write a quick note.</p><p>
  <em>“Good morning, Miss Schnee. I hope you rested well. In case you wake up hungry, there’s plenty of food at the cafeteria: just pick whatever you like most from the fridges. I will be back in the afternoon.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>General J. Ironwood.”</em>
</p><p>I then return to her dorm and gently slide the note under the door, trying my best not to make any noise that could wake her up. When I’m done, I finally make my way to the military quarters.</p><p>The cold strikes my face once again when I get out of the main building’s hall, although I find it to be more benevolent than last night’s freezing breeze. I still don’t know why any kind of passage connecting both the school and the military towers wasn’t built from the beginning – I suppose that they somehow wanted to keep both things separated, at least as much as they could. Mixing newcomer students with experimented soldiers probably wouldn’t be a good idea after all.</p><p>Although none of the towers really connects with the school, the five of them are connected to each other, so when someone enters the military quarters they can go to any meeting, no matter where it is, without having to go back into the freezing cold. From the outside, it looks like a crown made of towers surrounds the main building. I start walking towards one of them: the one in which we’re having the meeting today. Winter is already waiting for me right at the base.</p><p>“General Ironwood.” She says when I get by her side.</p><p>“Schnee.” I respond, slightly leaning my head a bit. I make a gentle gesture with my arm, inviting her to go through the door and to enter the tower. "I suppose you’re already aware of last night events, aren’t you?”</p><p>She frowns.</p><p>“No, sir. What happened?”</p><p>Alright. So… she hasn’t found out yet. That would explain that she didn’t call me in the first place. We start walking through the highway in order to get to the elevator – silent, sideways looks follow us as we leave some groups of soldiers behind. I clear my throat, looking for a way to begin my explanation.</p><p>“You do know Jacques was hosting a charity event last night, don’t you?”</p><p>“I do. I told you I wasn’t going.” She responds – the wrinkle between her eyebrows deepens.</p><p>“It didn’t go as smooth as it should have. There was an… incident.”</p><p>The elevator door opens in front of us, so we enter. I press the button with the number 24 on it.</p><p>“Sir?” She asks, as her impatience becomes more obvious in her voice – her tiptoe, quickly drumming on the floor.</p><p>“Do you remember that Beowolf you accidentally threw at me some years ago?”</p><p>“<em>James</em>.” She demands, crossing her arms and looking me in the eye. “Please get straight to the point.”</p><p>“Okay. I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath and I finally say: “Your sister threw one of those at Jacques last night.”</p><p>“WHAT!?” She cries out – her eyebrows raised in sudden surprise. “How? What happened?”</p><p>“Lady Eira. You know her, right?” Winter rolls her eyes in response. “She was… a bit, uhm… <em>intoxicated</em>, and started talking <em>in a very loud voice</em> about one trip she and her husband had made to Vacuo once. Everyone was able to hear her speaking badly of her tour guide, who apparently was a faunus. <em>Weiss</em>…” For some reason, her name spoken in my lips feels kind of heartwarming, just like it did last night when I was standing at her doorstep. I frown, slightly confused, and I accidentally lose track of what I was saying.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Sorry. What was I saying again?”</p><p>The elevator door opens, and we step out. Another group of soldiers slightly turn their heads when we walk by them.</p><p>“You were saying that everyone could hear Lady Eira talking badly about a faunus, and then you mentioned my sister.”</p><p>“Oh, of course. Well… she stepped in.”</p><p>“She did what!?”</p><p>“Yes. She said, and I quote: ‘don’t you dare talk about faunus like that.’”</p><p>“How unlikely of her.” Winter utters, shaking her head.</p><p>“Well, it seems like her stay at Beacon has made her reconsider some things.”</p><p>“Indeed. Please, sir, continue.”</p><p>“Jacques told her to stop making a scene. She shouted back at him – apparently your father was keeping her banned from leaving her room since she came back to Atlas – and she accidentally summoned a wild boar out of rage. I shot it right before it hit Jacques, but the damage was already done. He… he disowned her.”</p><p>Winter suddenly stops her walking. “Father disowned her?” She asks, confused. I simply nod back. Silence falls upon us for a couple of seconds.</p><p>“Well… Wow.” She finally sighs, taking a deep breath. “That would explain the stares I’ve been getting since I got here today. But where is she now?”</p><p>“I picked her up and took her to the Academy. She’s staying in one of the student’s rooms.”</p><p>“She’s here!?” Winter asks, her eyes lighting up. “I have to go see her.” She declares, and turns around to head back to the elevator. My hand over her shoulder stops her walking.</p><p>“No.” I say, making her turn around again to face me. “Winter, please, let her sleep. She must be exhausted.”</p><p>It takes a few moments for her to respond, but when she does, she finally gives up.</p><p>“Alright. But I want to see her when we’re done here. Okay?”</p><p>“Okay.” I concede. We both resume our walk – in silence, this time – towards the meeting room.</p><p>“I didn’t know she could summon yet.” She says after a few seconds, discretely smiling. Although Winter would never admit it, I can tell in her in the tone of her voice that she’s proud.</p><p>“Well… since Beacon was destroyed and Atlas Academy is empty, I think that she could use some training.”</p><p>Winter looks at me again, with a question in his eyes.</p><p>“Sir. Are you suggesting…?”</p><p>“I am.” I say with a side, soft smile. “Who better than a Schnee to teach another one some summoning?”</p><p>“It would be an honor, General.” She declares, making a slight bow. “Thank you.”</p><p>“We have a deal, then. We’ll make her a visit when we’re done here. But for now…” I say, when we finally make it to the door we were heading to. “Let’s work, shall we?” And I open it.</p><p> </p><p>--------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>The meeting was exhausting. I don’t know how much time has passed since we entered the room, but when we are finally done, it feels like it has been an eternity. My head is buzzing with new military strategies and battleships designs, and I think I need a break. I left in a bit of a hurry this morning – returning to my room in order to write that note for Miss Schnee made me be a little against the clock, so I didn’t have breakfast in order to make up for the time I had lost; and now, besides tired, I am starved, too.</p><p>Before everything that happened at Beacon I used to have lunch at the Academy cafeteria, but since it’s empty now, these last few weeks I’ve been doing it in the mess hall instead. However, now that Miss Schnee is staying at the Academy and Winter wants to see her, we might as well go have lunch with her.</p><p>The moment we step in the Academy hall I frown a bit, and so does Winter – we both look at each other with a disconcerted look in our faces. There’s a loud, metal banging that’s perfectly audible from here – and that would be audible from every single other room, if only there was anyone around to hear it.</p><p>“What the…” Winter says. We swiftly head to the cafeteria, and the closer we get, the more evident it becomes that a terrible smell has suddenly joined the deafening banging. The view that’s waiting for us when we finally make it to the kitchens makes me try my best to hold back my laughter.</p><p>“WEISS!” Winter yells – her eyes gleaming with burning anger. “Weiss, what are you doing!?”</p><p>I can’t really tell if Miss Schnee was either having fun or trying to make it through the worst day of her life. There’s two – three cooking pots over the stoves, all of them boiling water over the edges. There are two frying pans next to them, both of which have rests of what I assume were not only one but two failed attempts of fried eggs. On the counter, there’s a tower of burnt pancakes about to fall and crash to the floor. There are forks and spoons here and there, spilled salt all over the kitchen aisle, and the sink is filled with used cutlery.</p><p>And the oven…</p><p>Oh, Gods.</p><p>The oven is on fire.</p><p>“Winter…?” I begin.</p><p>“WINTER!” Miss Schnee exclaims – her own loud voice muffling mine, way softer in comparison - and she suddenly starts running towards her sister. “Winter, I’ve missed you <em>so</em> much!”</p><p>Winter easily dodges her with a graceful movement, but Miss Schnee’s inertia makes her unable to stop, causing her to crash right into my chest. Her head strikes the metal beneath my clothes with a loud bang, and she loses her balance for a second. I hurry to place one of my hands on her back to prevent her from falling. She looks a bit disoriented at first, but soon enough she seems to come back again. I then place my other hand over her right cheek, while my thumb gently rubs her forehead, right in the place where she just hit herself.</p><p>“Are you alright, Miss Schnee?” I softly ask.</p><p>“I…” She babbles, and looks me in the eye as she begins to blush. I suddenly realize that she’s way closer than I thought, and for a couple of seconds my heart stops beating and I’m just standing there, looking at her in awe – just like last night at the concert. I even think I’m blushing too. I try to say something, but I somehow seem to have forgotten every single word I know – at least until Winter clears her throat and the spell suddenly breaks in pieces and fades away.</p><p>“Weiss. You are going to tell me right now what is going on here.” She demands in a stiff voice. Miss Schnee – <em>Weiss</em> looks up at me one last time.</p><p>And she is the one to let go.</p><p>“Sorry, General.” She murmurs. Still a bit puzzled, she turns around to face Winter.</p><p>“There’s no butler here, Winter, and I was hungry. You know I can’t cook!”</p><p>“Of course you can’t.” She sighs with a resigned voice, shaking her head.</p><p>And, all of a sudden, I remember again.</p><p>The oven is on fire.</p><p>“Sorry to interrupt again, but…” I say.</p><p>“Then what did you expect me to do? Starve myself <em>to death</em>?” Weiss pouts, crossing her arms.</p><p>“Ladies…”</p><p>“I don’t know. Maybe you could have just waited for us to come back?”</p><p>“I told you I was <em>STARVING</em>, and I didn’t know when General Ironwood was going to return – I didn’t even know you were coming, too!”</p><p>“<em>Winter</em>!” I finally shout – they both turn around and look at me, astonished. I clear out my throat and relocate my tie a little bit, as I recompose myself. “The oven is on fire. Could you <em>please</em> put it out?” I say, pointing at the already fuming oven with my left arm.</p><p>“Oh god. Yes, sir!” She says, and she quickly draws her sword and casts one of her ice glyphs – soon enough, the fire is extinguished.</p><p>“Thank you.” I sigh, taking a deep breath and then slowly exhaling it. “Now, could we please just have someone bring us some food from the military quarters? We will deal with this mess in the meantime.”</p><p>“I will make a call.” Winter says, as she heads to the kitchen door and steps out.</p><p>“I’m sorry, General.” Weiss says, lowering her sight. “It’s my fault. I will clean it up myself.”</p><p>“Nonsense. If I had known you couldn’t cook, I would simply have prepared you something myself.” She looks up again – her eyes, as bright as the stars. I clear my throat once more and turn around; in an attempt to hide my blush, I pretend to look for a broom.</p><p>“Did you sleep well, Miss Schnee?” I ask, opening one of the cabinets. I don’t find a broom, but I do find a scourer and a bottle of dish soap. Once the blush on my cheeks has disappeared, I close the cabinet again and head to the sink.</p><p>“Yes! The bed is very comfortable, but the room is… way too big for only one person.”</p><p>“You tell me.” I smile, and take a quick look at her. She found the broom I was looking for and started sweeping the floor, but she stops to look up again and smile back at me.</p><p>“Doesn’t it feel lonely, General?” She asks, slightly leaning her head to the side. “I mean… I was all by myself for three whole weeks in the Schnee manor, since father didn’t allow me to go out. This… seems a little similar, in some way.”</p><p>“It does.” I concede, rubbing some rest of whatever ingredient she threw in this stove from its surface. “At least I get to see my men every day, but when I come back here… The silence is deafening, so I try as much as I can to not be here.”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>“But now that you’re here, I think that silence is no more.” I softly laugh pointing at the mess with my chin, and she laughs, too – my heart, beating in my chest. “From now on, I will try to make some spare time for you, if that’s okay. It just wouldn’t be okay if you felt lonely here, too.”</p><p>“Thank you, General.” She says.</p><p>By the time Winter’s back, Weiss and I have already cleaned up almost everything. We step out of the kitchen – my stomach, grunting in hunger.</p><p>“Nobody picked up, so I just had to go and bring some food myself.” Winter says, pointing with her arm at the whole banquet that’s now laying on one of the cafeteria’s tables.</p><p>“How did you carry all this stuff by yourself?” Weiss asks with surprise.</p><p>“Summons.” Winter responds, shrugging. “Which reminds me…” She says, sitting on the long bench right next to the table. “General Ironwood has given me permission to train you with yours.”</p><p>“Really!?” Weiss asks. Her face lights up as she looks at me, widely smiling; then, all of a sudden, her joy seems to turn into resignation. “But I left Myrtenaster back at the manor.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about, Miss Schnee.” I say. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, let’s just have lunch, shall we?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The dress - Ironwood's POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi! Ironwood's POV again! I hope the narrator change isn't too confusing, I just felt like this chapter suited him more!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“The food was extraordinary.” I declare, leaning back on the bench just enough so that my belt doesn’t hurt my now full stomach.</p><p>“It was.” Winter reaffirms, as she places both her fork and knife on the plate in a perfect one-hundred-and-eighty-degree angle, making a low sharp noise. “Did anyone try the chicken? I thought the chicken was lovely.”</p><p>“Indeed. But I think the salad was just out of this world. Thank you very much for bringing lunch from the quarters yourself, Winter.”</p><p>“No need to thank me, sir.” She says, gently nodding her head once. “I was hungry too.”</p><p>“Couldn’t we just have the mess hall butler brought here?” Weiss pouts, still absent-mindedly crumbling a piece of meat with her fork.</p><p>“It’s called a <em>cook</em>, Weiss.” Winter sighs.</p><p>“Just… <em>whatever</em>. I want some cake. I haven’t eaten any since I was at Beacon, and it has been almost a month already.”</p><p>“Weiss, stop being…” Winter begins, but I quickly interrupt her.</p><p>“There’s no need for a cook to be here, Miss Schnee. We’re only two people in the Academy, but there are hundreds of soldiers back in the military quarters. However, if you would like some cake, I could bake you one.”</p><p>She lifts her head from the plate and turns it to look at me with a confused look in her face.</p><p>“But you’re a General.” She points out, frowning a bit.</p><p>“I am.” I confirm. I try to hold back a smile, but I fail miserably. I don’t think I get her point.</p><p>“I mean… why do you know how to bake a cake? Don’t cooks just prepare meals for everyone in the military?”</p><p>A soft laugh comes out of my lips, finally understanding what she meant – and I shake my head a bit. So does Winter, but she also rolls her eyes in resignation. “Just because I’m a General doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to cook, Miss Schnee.” I say, still smiling. “As I told you yesterday, when I finished my training at Atlas Academy and joined the military, I rented a flat for a few years, and I had to learn how to cook. Besides, as Private soldiers we had to take shifts to help with the quarters’ maintenance. It was… quite a few years ago, but I do remember Tuesdays being cleaning days.”</p><p>“Mine were Thursdays.” Winter says, now smiling a bit. “I hated Thursdays.” She admits.</p><p>“They were two-hour shifts – one soldier per floor, in all five towers. There are around thirty floors per tower, so… I think you can imagine. We were told that we had to sweep the floors and then mop them until you could see yourself reflected on the tiles.”</p><p>“Only for someone to step on the just cleaned floor with their dirty boots.” She adds in a sarcastic tone, clicking her tongue.</p><p>“It was just once, Winter.” I laugh. “I already apologized back in the day.”</p><p>She snorts a laugh, too, and looks away.</p><p>“There was the cooking shift, too – I think you can imagine what we had to do. We had to help the cooks prepare food for the soldiers, and they were a lot. It was only when they were finished that we could eat, and right after, we had to wash all the dishes.”</p><p>“So, I assume you used to bake a lot of cakes for them?” Weiss asks.</p><p>“Oh, not at all.” I reply.</p><p>“There are no cakes at the military quarters.” Winter says. “I have never seen one. Ever. Not even a portion.”</p><p>“Then why do you…”</p><p>“Because I enjoy cakes.” I respond before she finishes her question, and I smile gently. “So, I simply learned how to bake them.”</p><p>“I see.” Weiss slowly nods and smiles back at me. Her eyes, as blue as the clear sky, stay on mine for a couple of seconds – she seems to be thinking of something. Before I can ask, she turns on her seat to look at Winter. “Why did you never tell me any of this before, Winter?”</p><p>“You never asked.” She responds, shrugging.</p><p>“Fair point.” Weiss sighs, and goes back to looking silently at her plate, now full of shredded chicken meat all over its surface. “By the way, Winter… Since I left the manor in a hurry, I don’t have any spare clothes.”</p><p>“I see. I have half this afternoon free. We can go to the city center to buy you some battledresses, if you’d like it.”</p><p>“I would love to, Winter! But, by any chance, wouldn’t you appear to have any spare jackets in the military quarters, would you? It’s cold outside and this dress doesn’t cover my arms.”</p><p>“You can borrow my uniform jacket anytime in case you need it, Miss Schnee.” I hasten to answer.</p><p>“Thank you, General.” She says, blushing softly. “But I don’t want to be annoying.”</p><p>“You are not.” I assure with a smile, gently placing my left palm over her shoulder. Why do I feel somehow comforted, in a way, when my hand rests over her, even if I can’t feel her touch through the glove fabric? “But, if you are certain you don’t want it, I’m sure that somewhere in the Academy we can find some spare Atlas uniform that suits you just fine.”</p><p>“That would be great. Thank you again, General Ironwood.” And she bows her head a little.</p><p> </p><p>----------</p><p> </p><p>When everything’s clean again, the three of us leave the cafeteria and head to the room’s hallway in order to begin our little raid in search of a uniform that will suit Weiss. I start looking in the left side rooms; Weiss does the same on the right side, and Winter heads to the end of the hallway to begin her search from back there. I enter the first room and open the metal plated built-in closet that’s on the left wall to check if there’s any uniform of Weiss’ size – it’s empty, so I leave the room again and do the same in the following one. It only takes a couple of minutes for me to find one that I think will suit her just fine. I return to the hallway and say out loud, so they both can hear me:</p><p>“I found one.”</p><p>Only three seconds after, Weiss steps out of the room in front of me. I hand her the uniform.</p><p>“Thank you, General.” She replies, gently picking it up. “It will only take a minute.” And then she disappears again into the room and closes the door.</p><p>The echo of Winter’s steps starts being audible again in the hallway.</p><p>“That was quick.” She says when she finally makes it to my side. “It was a good idea, sir; thank you for suggesting it. I didn’t have any spare jackets and I wouldn’t like it if she caught a cold.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Winter. I wouldn’t let it happen.”</p><p>“I know, sir.”</p><p>We both stay silent while staring at the closed door. It seems… strange. Somehow comforting, having company once more here, in the Academy – but still strange. It feels even more peculiar that I can hear my heart – which had been asleep for years until last night – beating in my ears.</p><p>Not long after, Weiss opens the door again. The grey and white Atlas uniform I found fits her perfectly, and I smile softly, pleased. Her face doesn’t say the same thing, however.</p><p>“Is something wrong, Miss Schnee?” I inquire, leaning my head a bit.</p><p>“It’s… boring.” She pouts, looking down at the skirt and softly tapping it to smooth its surface and remove the wrinkles.</p><p>“It’s not boring.” Winter protests, frowning and crossing her arms. “Just because it doesn’t have many colors in it, it doesn’t mean it’s ugly. It’s better than getting sick. Besides, you won’t have to wear it for long if we’re about to go shopping.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess you’re right… At least it’s warm.” She sighs, resigned, and twirls her right arm a little to look at the white shirt sleeve from another angle.</p><p>“I think it suits you completely. You would have made for an excellent Atlas Academy student, had you decided to stay.” I declare.</p><p>“Thank you, General.” She says, looking me in the eye. “But I’m <em>very</em> <em>happy</em> that I left.” Her sudden stiff tone of voice disconcerts me.</p><p> “Of course, Miss Schnee.” I babble. “I didn’t mean to…”</p><p>“Shall we get going?” Winter interrupts, looking at her scroll. “I have to be back in the quarters in an hour and a half, and it’s already getting late.”</p><p>“Indeed.” I respond, turning my back in an attempt to recompose myself – then, I start walking towards the main hall in order to leave the building. “We’ll take a ship.”</p><p> </p><p>----------</p><p> </p><p>The fall of Beacon doesn’t seem to have affected the Atlesians’ daily life in any way, since the city center looks just as busy as always. Open stores here and there, parks buzzing with young kids playing tag, small cafeterias from whose doors emanates the aroma of fresh coffee… It has always amazed me how, despite of the cold, Atlesian people seem to just enjoy being outdoors. It’s the first time I have left the Academy and the military quarters’ surroundings in three weeks – not counting my meeting with Jacques or the benefit concert, both at the Schnee manor – and it’s like nothing had changed at all.</p><p>“<em>But I have</em>.” I say to myself, following Winter and Weiss down the city center’s main street. Before the disaster, it felt as if I was the man carrying the weight of this city over my shoulders, the one who would give his heart and soul in order to protect it from any harm. I still feel the same about Atlas; but knowing what I know, that <em>she</em> was the one behind the fall of Beacon, that <em>she</em> will never stop until <em>she</em> gets what <em>she</em> wants and now that Ozpin is gone… “<em>Gods</em>.” It feels like not only Atlas, but the entirety of Remnant depended on me.</p><p>And the burden is just too heavy.</p><p> “Are you okay, sir?” Winter’s voice drags me back to earth, and when it does, I realize that both my hands were trembling again – I just hadn’t noticed. I hide them behind my back and intertwine them, trying to make them stop.</p><p>“I am.” I respond, more in an attempt to convince myself rather than to answer her question.</p><p>“Okay.” She concedes, frowning at me in suspicion; then, she turns around just a bit. “We have arrived.”</p><p>I lift my eyes to look at the blue neon sign over the store big entrance. It just says “<em>NIX</em>”.</p><p>“Are you coming in, General?” Weiss asks.</p><p>“No. I’ll wait for you two out here. I have to make a call. Please, take all the time you need.”</p><p>Winter nods her head, and with that, they disappear into the store. I lean back against its window until my head touches the glass, and I take a deep breath. When I slowly exhale the air I was holding, the steam floats away from me and gets lost into the cold of the afternoon.</p><p>I take my scroll from the uniform jacket pocket and dial his number. It only takes one beep for him to pick up.</p><p>“Hello, Pietro.” I say.</p><p>“James!” He responds – his voice, so loud that I have to take the phone away from my ear and shake my head, stunned. “It’s good to hear you! How’ve you been?”</p><p>“I’m good, but lately, my arm has been acting up a bit. Would it be okay if I made you a visit, just to have it checked?”</p><p>“Of course it would! Besides, I’ve yet to show you my new design!”</p><p>“Perfect.” I smile to the scroll. “I’ll be there in a while.”</p><p>“Great! I’ll be waiting for you. See you, James!”</p><p>“Goodb…” But before I can finish, he has already hung up.</p><p>I spend the next half hour just looking at the burning orange twilight sky slowly changing into a beautiful, bright pink at first, and to a dark, intense purple right after. Here, in the north, it always gets dark early. It’s almost pitch black when I hear someone calling for me.</p><p>“General Ironwood!”</p><p>It’s Weiss’ voice. I turn my head to face her, but when I do, the sole sight of her makes me run out of words. She has changed her uniform into a battledress, and she looks absolutely gorgeous in it. I can’t help but admit that she was right: the Academy uniform was nothing but boring compared to her new outfit. The chest piece is made of a beautiful porcelain color fabric that fades into pastel blue as it goes down her waist, and keeps fading into navy as it makes it to the skirt, which has small sewed constellations on it, simulating a night sky. She’s wearing dense white thighs and knee-high black boots, too. Over her shoulders, a navy hoodless cape that also has sewed constellations on it, matching her skirt, and the contrast between the dark fabric and her pale skin and white hair just makes her glow.</p><p>“Miss Schnee.”</p><p>That’s it. That’s all I can say. That’s all my brain can process, apparently.</p><p>Winter appears from behind her, carrying three bags full of clothes – her face: pure anger. I hasten to help her, and I pick all the bags up and hang them on my right arm.</p><p>“I told you to hurry, Weiss. Now I’m running late.” Winter grunts.</p><p>“Well, you’ll be even later if you keep shouting at me!”</p><p>Winter looks at her with a deadly glance, and then she asks me:</p><p>“Could I take the ship, please, sir? Otherwise I won’t make it to the military quarters in time.”</p><p>“Of course.” I respond, and I take the keys out of my pocket, handing them to her. “Please, tell them to excuse me this time. I have somewhere else to go.”</p><p>“I will. Thank you, sir.” She says, gently taking the keys from my hands.</p><p>“Miss Schnee, would you like to accompany me, or would you prefer to return to the Academy with Winter?”</p><p>“I’d probably get bored soon, so I’d rather go with you, General, if that’s okay.”</p><p>“Perfect.”</p><p>“I will visit you soon.” Winter says to Weiss; then, she turns around to leave. Weiss’ hand around her wrist abruptly stops her.</p><p>“Thank you for coming, Winter. I love you.” She says in a hushed whisper, and leans forward to embrace her. Winter seems surprised at first, but soon enough, she sighs:</p><p>“I love you too.” And returns the embrace. When they separate again, I could swear that Winter is <em>slightly</em> smiling. “Goodbye.”</p><p>“Goodbye, Winter.”</p><p>“Goodbye, sister!” Weiss waves at her until Winter turns the corner. Then, she looks at me again, and I just can’t get over with how gorgeous she is. “Where are we going, General?”</p><p>“We’re visiting an old friend of mine.” I simply answer with a smile, and I look up at the sky.</p><p>With all the light pollution the stars can’t really be seen from the main shopping street, but I could swear that the brightest one has fallen from the sky and is, at this very moment, walking by my side.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The lab - Weiss' POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>General Ironwood’s company feels very different from what I’m used to. Back at Beacon, my teammates used to be very loud – especially Ruby and Yang, who just wasted their afternoons playing videogames on their scrolls and fighting over who had won each round, despite what the screen result would say. I usually wanted to study, so I stayed in our room as much as I could until the shouting became unbearable and I had to head to the library if I was to get anything done. I hadn’t really noticed how much I had grown fond of their loud tone of voice and childish fights until I was locked away in my room in the Schnee manor, all alone.</p><p>Now, however, with the streets of Atlas emptying as we move away from the city center, I think I somehow appreciate sharing this quietness. It’s peaceful, and it feels almost warm despite the cold. Silence shifts from being overwhelmingly suffocating to surprisingly pleasant, and it’s in the stillness that reigns over every building that seems now frozen in time; in the quietness of the streetlights’ warm lights; and in the soft whisper of our breaths when they leave our lungs, that for the first time, I can appreciate the cadence of the General’s steps, a little shorter when he takes the next one with his left leg.</p><p>I look at him out of the corner of my eye – his silhouette, that of a man who escorted me to safety not only once, but twice. The protector of Atlas, the headmaster of the Academy, the leader of the military. Many would call him cold, or heartless – it takes an iron temper to be able to handle it all and not break under the pressure, and, after all, half his body is made of steel. Yet, under this light, the shadows cast over his face make him look more human that ever – not more than a simple man, tired of the weight over his shoulders but always willing to make his best effort to help everybody in whatever way he can.</p><p>At one point, his steps begin to slow down little by little until he finally stops before a wooden door, and so do I.</p><p>“We have arrived.” He declares, as he slowly opens the door and invites me in with a gesture of his arm. “Please, Miss Schnee, don’t be scared. He’s a little… eccentric, but he’s a nice man.” He says.</p><p>I frown back at him with suspicion, but he just returns me an indecipherable smile, and I don’t respond. When I cross through the doorstep, the first thing that catches my eye is not the pile of accumulated boxes in the form of a pyramid on the corner of the room; neither it is the ceiling-height mountain of blueprints stacked one on top of each other; not even the torture-like white machine right at the center of the room – it’s the <em>head</em>.</p><p>The very same head I unintentionally just kicked.</p><p>I stay in place frozen in horror, watching it roll all the way to the back of the room until it hits a table and just stops and faces me with its empty eyes.</p><p>“What is <em>THAT!</em>?” I shout and I point at the head.</p><p>“What’s what?” An old man sitting on a robotic wheelchair emerges from behind the mountain of blueprints and follows with his eyes the direction of my arm. “Oh. That’s just old Penny’s head.” He says, as if it was nothing.</p><p>“That is <em>WHAT</em>!?” I shout even louder.</p><p>“Penny’s head.” The General repeats with a soft laugh, and he places his right hand over my shoulder once more. Why is he <em>smiling</em>?</p><p>“I… I…” I babble, completely shocked. I’m violently shaking, and I’m about to start crying in terror.</p><p>“<em>It's okay</em>.” General Ironwood has leaned in just enough to whisper in my ear in such a tender voice that makes me shiver, and I force myself to hold back the tears just so that he doesn’t see me cry. He places the bags he was carrying on the floor, right behind me. I look him in the eye – his pupils, as calm as ever. My heart, already beating fast enough, now seems to be about to explode in my chest. “I promise.” He stands up again, but his hand doesn’t leave my shoulder, and I thank him for it – I feel calm when he does that. In a louder voice now, he says: “Please, allow me to introduce you Mister Polendina. He’s… Penny’s creator. Pietro, I suppose you already know who she is. Miss Schnee.”</p><p> “James, you know I hate that word! I’m not her creator, I’m her <em>father</em>! – wait, did you just say Miss Schnee?” He asks, turning his head back at me and realizing once more that I’m here. “Oh, Miss Weiss Schnee! What a pleasure to meet you!”</p><p>“<em>Erm…</em> Nice to meet you too, Mister Polendina.” I say, still a little hesitant, and I glance back at the head that’s on the floor for a second. I hadn’t realized when I accidentally kicked it, but now that he mentioned it… I think that it, indeed, looks a bit like Penny. Even the freckles are still visible. The mere sight of it gives me flashbacks of the Vytal Tournament, when Pyrrha accidentally tore her apart revealing Penny’s true nature. A chill runs down my spine, as I remember the terrible feeling that filled the stadium all of a sudden. That moment, that <em>very</em> moment when her limbs were ripped from her body, leaving all her cables and connectors just for everyone to be seen… That was the beginning of the end. <em>Penny… and Pyrrha</em>… I’m starting to tremble again, so I decide to just look away.</p><p>“Please, take a seat while I search for the new Penny’s blueprints! Just… where’d I put them?” And he gets lost into the mountain of piled papers again.</p><p>Both the General and I head to the table, and I choose the furthest seat from the head, which is still on the floor. At least I can’t see its empty eyes anymore – just the red hair from behind. I lean towards the General a little, and I murmur: “Penny’s creator?”</p><p> “I’m sure you already knew that Penny was, well, a robot.” He responds in the same low tone of voice. “Mister Polendina is one of the brightest minds here in Atlas, if not the most. I have known him for a long time, since he is the one who made <em>this</em>.” He says, gently hitting his right arm with his knuckles. I raise both eyebrows in surprise, but I don’t say anything.</p><p>“But when I became head of the military, he and I started working together more often. Some time ago I asked him for a robot prototype. Something not just anthropomorphous – we have plenty of those in the military already, as you must have seen back at Beacon. I asked him for something less scary, less cold and distant – something more… human.</p><p>» He came back to me a few months later with the finished prototype – he had built Penny from scratch, and she was fully functional already. So, we decided to give her a try at the Vytal Tournament. I think you know the rest.”</p><p>I do. Very well, indeed.</p><p>“And what does he mean by ‘the new Penny’s blueprints’, General?</p><p>“Exactly what it means. He’s building another Penny.”</p><p>“Is he really?” My eyes gleam in excitement for a second, but the General’s darken.</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes.” He sighs, resigned, and I frown a bit, confused. Isn’t this supposed to be good news? “The process is complicated. I don’t know the exact details – he’s the engineer, not me – but from what I understand, he splits his Aura and puts it into Penny. That’s what brings her to life. It’s obviously not good for him, since his health weakens when he does it – split his Aura, I mean –, but he seems determined to bring her back.”</p><p>“I see.” I respond. Now I think I understand Mister Polendina when he said that he’s not just Penny’s creator. He is, in every sense of the word, her father.</p><p>“Of course, this is all supposed to be classified information.” He sighs again and shakes his head a bit. “But I consider you a trustworthy person, and since I brought you here, I think that you deserved an explanation to who this man really is, at least.”</p><p>“I understand, General.” I say, and almost instinctively, I place one of my hand over his. “I won’t say a word.” I assure.</p><p>“Good. Thank you, Miss Schnee.” He says, placing his other hand over mine. There it is - the warmth again, just at the tip of my fingers, even though my skin only feels his glove.  We both look at each other for a couple of seconds, but a sudden slam on the table makes me jump on my seat and hide my hands under the table again. My heart is still beating fast, but I try my best to ignore it.</p><p>“I found it!” Mister Polendina exclaims, as one of his chair’s robotic arms proceeds to quickly unfold the blueprint over the table’s surface. “Look, James! I changed the design a bit. Isn’t she precious? She said she liked her dress, so I kept it for her – I just retouched it a little. My dear child… Oh, James, how much I miss her!”</p><p>“I like the new hair.” I say, tilting my head a bit so I can see the blueprint from the front.</p><p>“She’s beautiful, Pietro.” The General concedes. “But, as much as I’d like Penny back, you already know what I think about this. Wouldn’t you try to reconsider it, please? There has to be another way.”</p><p>“There isn’t.” He declares. “At least, not if you want her to be any different from your empty robot soldiers, James. And I do.”</p><p>General Ironwood rubs his eyelids with his fingertips, and he sighs heavily once more.</p><p>“Just… call me before you do it, okay?” He says, resigned. “I would like to be here, just in case anything happens.”</p><p>“I don’t promise anything!” Mister Polendina laughs, and the mechanic arm folds the blueprint again and puts it into one of the robotic wheelchair’s side little pockets. “C’mon, James, sit over there.” He hurries, waving his arm at the torture-like machine that is in the center of the room. “Let me check your arm.”</p><p>“Is something wrong with your arm, General?” I ask, slightly frowning.</p><p>“I think so, but I doubt it’s anything serious. Don’t worry, Miss Schnee.” He smiles; then, he gets up to head to the white machine, and I do the same.</p><p>I don’t know what I expected him to do - I guess I supposed that he would just fold his sleeve up to leave his metal arm exposed. What I definitely did not expect was him to casually put his uniform jacket away, take off his gloves, loosen his tie, turn around, and start unbuttoning his shirt. The fabric slides down his back like slow motion. My heart skips a beat, and I stay frozen in place when I see his right half, a perfect metallic mirror of every single one of his back muscles – more than I had ever imagined hidden beneath his always impeccable ironed clothes. I feel a lump in my throat when my eyes land on his large, darkened scar, running deep down his spine like a lightning strike from top to bottom. Whatever it was that caused him to lose half his body, it must have been so very painful that I can’t even dare to imagine. I wonder how he made it out alive.</p><p>He turns around and faces me again – my cheeks, rosier than ever. Mine… and his. Is he blushing, too? I part my lips in surprise, but he clears his throat and looks away again.</p><p>“I apologize for the view, Miss Schnee.” He says with a small, sad smile. “I know the sight of my prosthetics can be disturbing. You can wait in the back of the room, if it’s too much.”</p><p>“No, General, it’s okay.” I gently assure, smiling a bit. “It’s not disturbing.”</p><p>He looks back at me and smiles again, a little wider this time, and nods his head a little.</p><p>“Okay, James, tell me. What’s wrong with your arm?” Mister Polendina voice suddenly raises again breaking the atmosphere, and his chair’s robotic limb gently pushes General Ironwood over the padded gurney. Turns out that the torture device was nothing more than a very powerful lamp that now blinds the General, so he raises his left arm to move it away from his eyes.</p><p>“One moment it’s good, then it starts trembling for no apparent reason.”</p><p>“And how long’s this been happening, you say?” He asks, leaning forward a bit to examine the General’s prosthetic arm, and then he lifts it up until the metallic knuckles are at eye level. He gently twists it, examining it from every angle he can.</p><p>“Since the Battle of Beacon. I think a Grimm might have broken some connector.”</p><p>“Okay.” He says, pulling a screwdriver out of nowhere.</p><p> He begins to check every screw, starting from the General’s fingers, then all the way up his arm and finally his shoulder. With a twist of his wrist, his screwdriver changes his shape and turns into a small reflex hammer; right after that he starts gently hitting General Ironwood’s hand with it.</p><p>“Hm… Strange.” He murmurs. The more he works his way up again, the more his frown accentuates. Once he’s finished, he leans back on the wheelchair. “I don’t see anything off.”</p><p>“Nothing?” General Ironwood’s voice, full of disconcert.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Then what do you think could be causing this?” The General tilts his head.</p><p>Mister Polendina gently taps his lower lip with the reflex hammer, as if he was thinking of something.</p><p>“Your other arm trembles too, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“It does.” He frowns. “How do you…?”</p><p>“Answer’s clear, then.” Mister Polendina says with a wave of his arm. “Stress. It’s obvious, it’s all over your face. I’ve never seen you this tired before. Are you getting good sleep, James?”</p><p>“Not much.” General Ironwood admits, and he scratches the back of his bare neck with his metal hand. “I keep having nightmares of the battle, so I wake up many times a night.”</p><p><em>Oh</em>. A sudden ache pierces my chest at the sight of his defeated shoulders, and I the knot on my throat becomes a little tighter. I know how he feels. I haven’t been able to sleep at all since I left Beacon.</p><p>“You should rest. This much stress’s not good for you.”</p><p>“I know.” He grunts. “But I can’t. There’s a lot going on at the military right now, Pietro. Couldn’t you just remove the nerves from the prosthetic arm so that it doesn’t tremble? I haven’t even been able to shave without cutting myself lately.”</p><p>So… I guess that’s the reason behind his stubble.</p><p>“Then you couldn’t move it at all, James.”</p><p>I’m still trying to figure out what the General meant about removing his metal arm’s nerves, but I don’t want to ask and be invasive. He clicks his tongue, resigned, and places his elbows on his knees; then, he leans forward a bit to hide his face beneath his hands and goes silent again. I approach him slowly, and gently place my hand over his right shoulder, just like he did with me when we entered here. The steel is cold against my skin, and for a moment, I wonder if he is able to feel my touch. He must be, in some kind of way – and for some reason, it kind of relieves me – , because he raises his sight once more and looks me in the eye.</p><p>“General Ironwood. Please, take a rest. I’m sure Winter can handle everything for a couple of weeks. She won’t mind.”</p><p>The stars in his eyes flicker. I can only imagine the sight that can be seen from his office, but I picture it to be a perfect reflection of what lays beneath his dark blue irises – a calm, quiet night, dimly lit by twinkling lights. He places his left hand over mine, and the contrast between the cold of his prosthetics and the warmth of his skin catches me by surprise and suddenly makes my heart stop.</p><p> “Okay.” He whispers, finally giving up.</p><p>I am blushing again.</p><p>He is blushing again.</p><p>“Ah, the Schnee ladies, always bringing you back to your senses. You’re pigheaded, aren’t you, James?” Mister Polendina laughs. General Ironwood snorts a laugh, too, and gets up – my hand leaves his shoulder and falls to my side. I can still feel his warmth in my fingertips – it tingles. He begins getting dressed again, and as he starts buttoning his shirt up, his steeled skin disappears under his clothes once more.</p><p> “Oh, I almost forget! I finished that thing you asked for. Do you wanna add a note? I’ll have it sent tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“What – oh!” General Ironwood’s face lights up. “I didn’t even remember. Could you bring it, Pietro, please?” Miss Polendina nods and disappears in the back of the room again. “It’s such a good thing you came with me, Miss Schnee.” He says, turning around to smile at me. “I’m sure you will want to add a note too.”</p><p>“What is it?” I ask, now curious.</p><p>“Oh, you’ll see.” He responds, still smiling. A couple of minutes later, Mister Polendina comes back with a box on his lap. He hands it to the General, but he picks it up and gives it to me instead.</p><p>“Open it, please.”</p><p>“<em>Hm</em>… Alright.” And I lift the lid. It’s… a prosthetic arm. At first, I don’t get why he handed it to me, and I frown a little in disconcert. Why would I want to add a note to a box with a metal arm? But then, it suddenly hits me, and I open my eyes in surprise as my face lights up. “Is this for Yang!?”</p><p>“It is.” He concedes. “Do you think she’ll like it?”</p><p>“She will <em>love</em> it, General!” I exclaim – my eyes are starting to tear up. Even as busy as he is and as tired as he seems, he somehow managed to remember what happened to Yang and decided to order a new arm for her. I… I feel like my heart is going to explode in gratitude towards him, and before I know what I am doing, I run into his arms and hug him. He only has his shirt covering his chest, so I can feel both the cold of the metal and the warmth that emanates from his skin. His heart is beating fast. “Thank you so much.” I murmur.</p><p>“No need to thank me, Miss Schnee.” He puts his human hand over my head and gently strokes my hair. “You all fought very bravely at the Battle of Beacon; it was genuinely admirable. We wouldn’t have stood a chance without your help. Your teammate… She didn’t deserve what happened to her – nobody did, and… I wanted to make up for it in some way.”</p><p>I stay in place for a few seconds, in an attempt to make this moment stay anchored in my memory for a long time. When I let go, Mister Polendina is looking at us with a moved look on his face.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I just got carried away.” I say, blushing, and I wipe away the tears from the corners of my eyes.</p><p>“It’s okay.” The General responds in a muffled voice.</p><p>“Okay. Enough! You both are gonna make me cry, too!” Mister Polendina wails, as he picks a handkerchief from his pocket and blows his nose, and I laugh softly. “Let me get you a paper and a pen.” His robot wheelchair tuns around and leaves – in less than ten seconds he has already come back. I take the pen and I begin to write.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“My dearest Yang:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How have you been? I hope that you are resting, and that Ruby and Blake are okay. General Ironwood had this prosthetic arm made for you. Isn’t it beautiful? Knowing you, I’m sure you will master it in no time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m staying at Atlas Academy at the moment, so if any of you wants to write back, please do it. I miss you all more than you can imagine.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Weiss Schnee.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Mister Polendina.” I say when I put my pen down. “Wouldn’t you appear to have any spare scrolls, would you? I… I lost mine.”</p><p>“And that, too, I had forgotten, of course.” The General says with a sigh, gently slapping his forehead with his hand.</p><p>“I have like a hundred spare scrolls, Miss Schnee. Here, take one.”</p><p>“Thank you so much, sir.” I say, putting it in my pocket - because <em>of course</em> my new battledress had to have pockets. I will finally be able to call Ruby, and Blake, and Yang. I can’t wait to hear their voices again.</p><p>When we are finally done, both General Ironwood and I head to the door. He picks all three bags full of my clothes with his right arm.</p><p>“Thank you for everything, Pietro.” He says, leaning his head.</p><p>“Oh, nonsense!” He exclaims with a wave of his arm. “Do me a favor and take care of yourself, okay? Miss Schnee, I trust you to keep an eye on him.”</p><p>“I will, Mister Polendina.” I respond with a smile. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Shall we go, Miss Schnee?”</p><p>I nod.</p><p>As soon as we close the door behind our backs, I instantly miss the pleasant temperature inside Mister Polendina’s lab. The fresh breeze from the twilight has turned into a cold, freezing night. At least my new dress is warm, and the cape around me acts as a windbreaker.</p><p>“I’m afraid we will have to walk all our way up to the Academy again since your sister took the airship, Miss Schnee.”</p><p>“It’s okay.” And I’m surprised to find that I really mean it. Walking into the night is okay as long as he’s by my side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, that was a thing! Sorry it takes me so long to update it, I've been a bit busy and this chapter is long.<br/>Hope y'all like it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Company - Ironwood's POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a long time since I hadn’t walked the path to the Academy. When I was a Private soldier, I used to do it every morning before sunrise, and walk down again when I was done at the military for the day. Most of the other soldiers lived in the quarters, but I decided to just rent a flat. They sometimes asked me the reason behind that decision, because it was much more convenient if I moved into the quarters. If I did, I wouldn’t have to cook breakfast or dinner, or worry about rent; besides, it would take way shorter to make it to the military if I just lived there. “I don’t want to feel trapped.” I used to say – it was true, but only in part. As I grew old and moved up the ranks, I began to question the <em>real</em> reason behind my choice, but it wasn’t until I became the headmaster of Atlas Academy and spent my very first sunset in my office just staring out of the window in awe that I didn’t realize.</p><p>Turns out… I simply liked being able to see the sky.</p><p>I traded the cold of the breeze and the sound of my steps echoing into the night as I walked down back to the city center for the still silence and pleasant quietness that reigned over my office. I liked them both, but it had been long since I hadn’t experienced the first one again. Tonight, walking silently under the moonlight with Weiss by my side transports me back to those days once again; however, her company makes it feel warmer than I remembered. I look at her from the corner of my eye, but she is just staring at the floor as she walks, lost in thought.</p><p>I review the last twenty-four hours in my head. From the strange piercing ache on my heart I felt at the charity concert, to the accidental summon, going through Weiss’ failed attempt to make herself something to eat and the stunning sensation I felt when she stepped out of the store with her brand new clothes. Her voice, soft at the sight of my steeled limbs when she said they were not scary, although I feel like, for many, they are. However, the memory of her hardened voice back at the Academy hallway when I made a commentary I shouldn’t have makes guilt erase that nice feeling in my chest as it falls upon it once more.</p><p>“Miss Schnee.” I call her. She turns her head to look at me, but this time I am the one staring at the floor. The moon behind our back casts moving shadows as we walk.</p><p>“Yes, General?” She asks.</p><p> “It wasn’t my intention to question your choice about Beacon Academy earlier today.” I say.</p><p>“What do you mean?” I can’t see her face, but I can tell in the tone of her voice that she is frowning.</p><p>“When I said that you would have made for an excellent Atlas student. I didn’t mean that you would have become a better Huntress if you had studied here – in fact, I consider you an excellent, outstanding one. You more than proved it at the Battle of Beacon. I think my choice of words could lead to a misunderstanding, so I apologize for that.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Her whisper makes me raise my sight from the floor and look at her again. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, just like the tip of her nose; and the moonlight, now shining on her left profile, makes it look as if she was glowing. I wonder how she can look and like a fragile porcelain doll and a fierce ethereal being, both at the same time.</p><p>“Please, don’t worry, General. It’s just…” She takes a deep breath, only to hold it for it a couple of seconds and exhale it with a heavy sigh. “Belonging to one of the most important families in the kingdom, if not the most, makes us Schnees be forced to meet certain standards, and they are above the moon. You have known my family for years, so you must know.” She says with a sad smile, and I simply nod. “I grew up thinking that if I didn’t meet the expectations then I would be useless. The shame of the family, a disgrace to my name. However, when Winter left our home, I realized I had the power to do the same. I realized that I had the power to break the chains my name had kept me in for years and to be free for once, although it meant that I had to leave. I longed for liberty, and the only way to do it was to move out of the city, far from father’s influence, so I couldn’t stay at Atlas Academy.”</p><p>She goes silent for a while; however, I can tell that she’s not finished, but looking for the words to keep going. I don’t dare speak and interrupt her thoughts.</p><p> “Do you know how I got my scar?” She finally asks. I look at her with an inquisitive look, surprised by the change of topic, and I shake my head. It suddenly appeared on her face a couple of months before she left to Beacon, and even though I questioned its origin back then, I never asked Winter, nor Jacques, and, evidently, neither did I ask her. It would have been rude of me if I had.</p><p>“When I told father I wanted to leave Atlas and study at Beacon Academy, he disregarded it, but I wasn’t going to give up that easy. As months went by and my insistence grew, he decided to arrange a special training session to prove that I was strong enough to leave, that I wouldn’t just go and make a fool of our family name. I agreed: if defeating Grimm was all it took for father to let me go to Beacon, I would be there in no time. The first ten enemies were easy, and I was even having fun, but… then it came the Arma Gigas.” She sighs.</p><p>Weiss must see the disconcert in my face, because she hurries to explain:</p><p>“The Arma Gigas is something like a ghost knight, but corporeal. It’s a medieval armor that has been possessed by a Geist.” I slightly nod in understanding, and then she keeps going. “The armor I fought was a replica of the one that’s at the Schnee museum, which belonged to my grandfather, but three times bigger. It was huge and terrifying, and it moved way quicker than anyone would expect it to.”</p><p>I know that armor she’s talking about. I have seen it a few times, and Nicholas Schnee is wearing it in one of his portraits in the manor.</p><p>“Its eyes, as red as blood, peeked through the metal helmet. Its sword was as high as the armor, and its hits were brutal – they slammed the floor with an echoing sharp noise every time I dodged it. I fought well for around ten minutes, but after battling with so many other monsters, I was starting to get tired. I let my guard down for a second and…” She sighs, and points at her scar with a sad smile.</p><p> “That… That is terrible, Miss Schnee.” I murmur. My words are barely audible, because my voice is drowned by the tight lump in my throat.</p><p>“In the end I managed to beat the Arma Gigas, and father had to finally accept that I was more than ready to leave, even though he wasn’t remotely happy with my choice.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through all of this. I should have known.”</p><p>There it is, once again. The guilt. I know, I <em>do</em> know it’s not my fault, and I know I couldn’t have done anything, but I feel responsible nonetheless. I have known Jacques for many years, and I knew he was merciless, but forcing his own daughter to fight against a giant deadly armor only to allow her to leave is just take it way too far. He overstepped the line, and I didn’t know. Why didn’t I know?</p><p>“Your words didn’t offend me, General. I know I would have made an excellent Atlas student, especially with you as the headmaster of the Academy.” She smiles. “However, that uniform made me wonder what kind of person I would be now if I had just given up and stayed here; if I had resigned to doing whatever father commanded me to. It seems that nothing would be very different, since I agreed to sing at the charity concert because he asked me to, and that’s the reason why I’m here. Knowing that I would be the exact same person… it somehow hurts me.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t. You aren’t.” I declare. “The Miss Schnee I knew wouldn’t have confronted Lady Eira because she’d be too afraid to make a scene in front of Atlas’ high spheres, and that’s the real reason why you are here – precisely because you are brave, and because you dare speak up for yourself. Only by leaving Atlas have you realized that you are more than your family name, and you must be proud of the person you have become.”</p><p>… Because I am.</p><p>“Because I am.”</p><p>She looks at me with crystal eyes – her irises seem to break in the same way the moon behind us has been doing for ages, and the mere sight of them pierces through my heart; for a moment, I wonder if I’ve said something wrong, but the thought vanishes when she speaks again.</p><p>“Thank you for saying that, General Ironwood.” She says in a tiny voice. “I… Would it be okay if…” She babbles. “Would it be too much to ask that you called me just Weiss?”</p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p>A sudden wave of electricity spreads through my chest.</p><p><em>Weiss</em>.</p><p>It pumps through my veins and makes my fingertips tickle – <em>all of them</em>.</p><p><em>Weiss</em>.</p><p>I silently thank Pietro for not allowing me to remove my nerves from my prosthetic arm, because even my shaking hands seem a worth price to pay if I’m able to <em>feel</em> this, too.</p><p><em>Weiss</em>.</p><p> “Only if you call me James.” I respond, making a superhuman effort so that my voice doesn’t tremble even though I feel as if my heart was going to explode.</p><p> “Deal.” Weiss murmurs with a smile.</p><p>She blushes, and so do I.</p><p>We finally make it to the Academy, and Weiss, who has been with her back to the moon the whole way up to the Academy, finally turns around, and so do I. It’s a clear night, and the moon’s broken fragments look like shattered glass covered in silver powder. There’s barely any light pollution up here, so all the stars are clearly visible – I can even spot some constellations up in the sky. I could swear that it’s one of the most beautiful nights ever, but when I turn my head to Weiss to look at her, I can’t take my eyes off her anymore. Moonlight illuminates her skin and makes her glow in the exact same way the spotlights did at the concert, reflecting on her new cape’s sewed pearls like it did on her dress’ crystals.</p><p>It feels strange that, after so much time, my heart is now awake.</p><p>“I could get used to that view.” She says after a while.</p><p>Right now, looking at her, I can’t help but think: <em>“Me too.”</em></p><p>“You could come to my office one day, if you would like to see the stars. It’s warmer up there than it is here outside.”</p><p>She turns around and slightly nods with a smile: “I would like to.”</p><p>I get distracted into the light abyss of her shining eyes once more, and it’s her soft voice what brings me back to earth.</p><p>“Shall we go in? I… I’m a bit hungry.” She admits.</p><p>“Of course.” I say with a wave of my arm, inviting her to enter the Academy. “After you.”</p><p>When we are about to cross the doorway, I see that there’s a package in the middle of the hall waiting for us. I frown, puzzled, because I wasn’t expecting any correspondence, and an unsolicited package is one of the most suspicious things ever. Weiss intends to enter the hall, but I put my hand on her shoulder and stop her before she does.</p><p>“Get behind me.”</p><p>“Is there something wrong?” She asks, worried. I don’t answer, but slowly pull her back until I’m standing between her and the package. I can feel that my hands are starting to tremble again, but I deliberately ignore it and approach the box slowly. When only a meter separates me from it, I bend down, and I spot a white label on the side of the box. I get a bit closer; when I strain my eyes, I’m able to distinguish the letters.</p><p>Weiss Schnee.</p><p>Is this package for her?</p><p>At first, I thought that it could be a … <em>special present</em> from someone from Vale – someone who could have been affected by the fall of Beacon and had decided to take revenge on Atlas Academy – or on me. With Weiss as the recipient, however…</p><p>I slightly turn my head to look at her. She’s standing on her tiptoes a couple of meters behind me, trying to see what I’m doing.</p><p>“It has your name on it.” I say.</p><p>“What?” She asks, frowning. “Who sent it?”</p><p>“It has no sender. However, given last night’s events… I think it could be from Jacques.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes and sighs.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Do you want me to open it?” I offer, still bent down.</p><p>“No. No, I will.”</p><p>“Alright. Let me check it first, okay?”</p><p>I bring my ear closer to the box – no suspicious beeps, no strange noises; nothing to be worried about. I grab it carefully and shake it gently. Everything seems correct. I get up again with the package on my hands and Weiss finally approaches me; when she makes it to my side, I hand her the box. She seems a bit indecisive, but when she finally makes up her mind and lifts one of the lids, her hesitation vanishes and her face suddenly lights up.</p><p>“Myrtenaster!” She exclaims in joy as she takes the rapier out of the box - the empty carton falls to the floor when she starts swinging her weapon gracefully. “Father sent me this? How weird.”</p><p>I pick the box from the floor – there’s a little envelope inside that she didn’t see, wax-sealed with the Schnee emblem, and I turn it around: there’s a name on its back.</p><p>“It’s not from Jacques. It’s from your brother.”</p><p>“From Whitley?” She stops the swinging to look at me, tilting her head to the side when I show her the envelope. “What does it say?”</p><p>I open it, carefully breaking the wax seal, and I pick the letter from inside. Then, I start reading out loud.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Dear sister:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I took Myrtenaster from your room before father could; I am sure he thinks that you took it with you. I assume you’re with the General, but if that is not the case and it’s General Ironwood the one reading this note, would you please take the trouble to forward the package to my sister Weiss? Many thanks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Whitley Schnee.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I didn’t know he knew my weapon’s name.” She smiles, running her fingers along the gleaming blade of the rapier.</p><p>“Whitley is a good young man. I’m sure he loves you very much.”</p><p>“Well, he barely shows it.”</p><p>“You Schnees look harsh on the outside, but you have a caring nature for the ones you love, even though you have difficulty with showing it. Your mother used to be like that, and your sister is the vivid image of what I just said.” I smile. “Your brother took your rapier and had it sent to you behind your father’s back despite the consequences if he finds out, so I think he can fit the description.”</p><p>She goes silent for a while, still absent-mindedly examining the rapier’s sharp blade.</p><p>“And father?” She finally asks.</p><p>“Jacques doesn’t have Schnee blood running through his veins.”</p><p> “I see.” She simply says.</p><p>I pity the Schnee family, if it can be called that. I don’t know much about Winter’s relationship with Jacques because she has always been very discreet about it, but the effort she makes to keep the formalities and hide an eye roll every time I mention him doesn’t pass unnoticed to my eyes, and delates the hidden truth beneath the façade. I hope he didn’t go as hard on her as he did on Weiss – nobody deserves that.</p><p>“I will text Whitley to say thank you.”</p><p>“Maybe you could ask your brother if he would like to come here, too?” I suggest.</p><p>“I will.” She responds. “Father must be very angry. I hope he doesn’t take it out on him.”</p><p>“I hope so, too.”</p><p>----------</p><p>After having dinner, I accompany Weiss to her room before leaving to mine.</p><p>“I will call Winter tomorrow to say that I’m taking some time off.” I say, standing at the doorstep. She heads to her bed and gently places her rapier over the mattress. “I’m afraid it might slow down your training, since your sister will be busier than usual, but…”</p><p>“It’s okay.” She responds, turning around to look at me. “Taking a rest every now and then is necessary. Besides, Winter loves working. I’m sure she won’t mind.”</p><p>I just nod.</p><p>“I’ll be leaving, then.”</p><p>“Alright. Goodnight, General I… <em>James</em>.” She corrects herself in a very soft voice.</p><p>Not many people call me by name. Pietro and Jacques always do it — the former as a friend, the latter as a way to subtly tell me I’m not more important than he is, even though I consider (or at least, considered) him a friend. Qrow, Glynda and Ozpin do it too, but only in private; and then there’s Winter, who barely ever calls me James, but she’s always frowning when she does. Never had the sound of it in any of their voices made me feel anything at all; in Weiss’, however, it gives me goosebumps.</p><p>“Goodnight, <em>Weiss</em>.” I say gently. “Sleep well.”</p><p>When I make it to my room and take my clothes off, I stay still in front of the mirror for a while. Even though my robotic parts have no tactile memory, I could swear I feel the ghost of Weiss’ touch on my metal shoulder. I place my fingertips where she placed hers, and I close my eyes trying to remember her face when she saw my prosthetics. There was no terror in her pupils, nor disgust; only kindness and understanding. I don’t get that kind of looks quite often, and it feels… nice.</p><p>Once I get in bed, my heart calms down little by little, and soon enough, I fall asleep.</p><p>I don’t have nightmares tonight.</p><p> </p><p>----------</p><p> </p><p>Days pass by, and the silence that reigns over Atlas Academy -which feels a bit less overwhelming, I must say- is sometimes broken by the voice of the snow angel that lives here now. She looks way more comfortable in my presence now, since we spent a big part of the day together. Her occasional morning singing brings a soft smile to my face and stays there for the rest of the day. I missed company, and I couldn’t have desired for better. Young Whitley refused to come too, though. As I was told by Weiss, he said that it wouldn’t be an intelligent idea to upset Jacques anymore, so he would rather stay at the Schnee manor, but I made sure that he knew Atlas Academy’s doors are always open for him in case he needs a place to stay.</p><p>When I called Winter and told her what Pietro said about my prosthetics, she seemed more than receptive to take charge of some of my responsibilities. She said that she thought I needed a rest, but would never dare to meddle in my life, so she was glad I decided to take some time off. However, I still try to do some paperwork in my office every now and then, just so I don’t lose track of everything that’s happening at the military quarters. She sometimes visits us at lunchtime, but she still hasn’t managed to make some spare time to train Weiss. She’s so busy that she always leaves before dessert.</p><p>“I’m sorry that you have to deal with all of this, Winter. I will be back in no time.” I say once we’re done eating, one of the days she comes to visit.</p><p>“Please, sir, take as much time as you need. I can manage for now.”</p><p>“Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”</p><p>“It’s my job, sir.” She says, and she gently taps her white uniform slacks to shake out the breadcrumbs before getting up from the table.</p><p>“It’s not. It’s mine.” I declare.</p><p>“It’s my job to assist you with your duties, and that is what I am doing, sir.” She responds.</p><p>I nod and smile softly. Winter’s stubbornness is comparable to mine.</p><p>“I have to go now. Enjoy the rest of the day. Goodbye, Weiss. General.” She slightly bows her head.</p><p>“Bye, Winter!”</p><p>“Goodbye.” I say.</p><p>Then, she leaves to the military quarters.</p><p>Pricking my last piece of steak with the fork, I suddenly remember about the conversation we had in this very same table the day after Weiss arrived.</p><p>“By the way, Weiss…” I begin. Her name spoken in my lips still trembles a bit in my voice, but I manage to conceal it almost every time. “Would you like some cake for dessert?”</p><p>“Is there any cake?” She asks, raising her sight to look at me  – her voice is full of excitement. “Did you hire a cake butler?”</p><p>“I’m afraid there’s no cake butler, nor cake, either –” I smile, and her face shifts from excited to disappointed. “– Yet. Since you said you hadn’t eaten any since you were at Beacon… I thought that maybe we could bake one? I can guide you, if you would like to learn.”</p><p>Her cheeks light up again, and so do her eyes.</p><p>“It would be nice.”</p><p>“Perfect.” I respond, and I get up from the table. “After you.”</p><p>We head to the kitchen and start looking for all the ingredients we need. Weiss finds the flour, the vanilla extract, the sugar and the baking powder in one of the cabinets over the ceramic stove, and I find the oil and the salt under the cutlery drawer. Butter, milk, and eggs are in the fridge. I take a small scale and I roll my sleeves up so as not to stain my suit before weighing the different ingredients.</p><p>“Okay. That would be everything we need.” I say, once everything is distributed over the counter in different bowls and plates.</p><p>“You say it as if they were few ingredients.” Weiss says, frowning. I don’t know when her happiness shifted again and turned into frustration, but I find it quite amusing.</p><p>“They aren’t that many.”</p><p>“It’s the most complicated thing I’m ever going to cook.” She declares, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.</p><p>“I thought you couldn’t cook.” I say, holding back a smile and slightly leaning my head to the side.</p><p>“I can’t! That’s the point! I’m going to accidentally set the oven on fire again! This is a bad idea. I shouldn’t have agreed.”</p><p>Incapable of anything else, I finally start laughing.</p><p>“Weiss, that’s not going to happen.” I assure, still smiling. “I’m here too, and there’s <em>no way</em> I’m going to leave you alone with the oven turned on after what happened the other day. But if you want me to do it myself, I will, okay?”</p><p>The wrinkle between her eyebrows deepens, but she finally gives up and takes the initiative.</p><p>“I will. Where do I start?”</p><p>“Put five eggs in a big bowl and add the sugar – oh my, Weiss, not like that!” I say, bursting into laughter when I see her placing a whole egg inside a crystal bowl instead of cracking it. “You have to crack them!”</p><p>“You said <em>put</em>.” She grumbles, and then she starts cracking every egg one by one and throwing the shells to the bin. When she is done, she pours the sugar into the bowl.</p><p>“Okay. Now you have to whip it with…” I search the drawers looking for a whisk. “… this, until the mixture thickens. I can do it, if you want.”</p><p>“No. No, I’m good.” She insists, and starts to whip the eggs and the sugar vigorously. It takes some minutes, but when she is finally done, she murmurs: “I can’t feel my arm.”</p><p>“Well, we have to keep whisking.” I smile. “But I can do it while you add the flour, okay? Do it slowly.”</p><p>“Okay.” Weiss concedes with a sigh, rubbing her arm. She takes the smaller bowl where I weighed the flour and starts pouring it gradually, stopping every now and then until I carefully mix everything together again, and then she keeps adding. Her hands so close to mine make me a bit nervous since I’m not really used to this kind of proximity. I think I have never baked a cake with anyone, I have only made it by myself. However, I manage to keep focused. I instruct her to pour the baking powder and a pinch of salt, too. Then, two tablespoons of vanilla extract.</p><p>“Isn’t it too much?” She asks.</p><p>“I like vanilla.” I smile. “Could you melt the butter in the microwave, please? Medium temperature, twenty seconds.”</p><p>She does as I say, and in the meantime, I preheat the oven. When the microwave beeps, she takes the cup with the melted butter out and to add some milk and blend them together. Weiss pours it back into the whipped eggs, and I gently mix it all until everything is perfectly integrated. We pour the mixture into the cake pan, and then it goes straight into the oven – when I close its door, I say:</p><p>“Now we wait. Did you find it very difficult?”</p><p>“Not at all, but I couldn’t have done it all by myself.” She sits on the floor right next to the oven, and wraps her arms around her knees, tilting her head to be able to see the cake pan.</p><p>“I’m sure you could have if you had known the recipe. It’s not very hard.”</p><p>“You underestimate my chaos power when I’m in the kitchen, James.” She laughs, looking back at me. I smile back in response, and I head to the sink in order to wash every bowl and plate that we used.</p><p>“Wait, let me help you.” She makes as if to get up, but I prevent her from doing it.</p><p>“There’s no need to. Besides, you have to see how the cake rises.”</p><p>“They <em>rise</em>?”</p><p>“Yes. That’s what the baking powder is for: it makes the cake soft and fluffy.”</p><p>“Oh. I understand.” She smiles, and then looks back at the oven. Her presence right next to it, with her face illuminated by the warm light that comes from inside, is somehow comforting.</p><p>It takes me around half an hour to wash the bowls, clean the counter and put everything back in place again, but the moment I place the last plate on the cabinet, the oven beeps.</p><p>“Look! It has doubled its height!” She exclaims, pointing at the oven window. I smile before I put the kitchen mittens on –I love their floral pattern– and I take the tray out; then, I manage to separate the cake from the pan and I turn it upside down.</p><p>“We have to let it cool.”</p><p>“But I want to try it!”</p><p>“Okay.” I concede. “Be careful not to burn your tongue.”</p><p>She picks a knife and cuts a small cake portion. Her cheeks blush when she tastes it.</p><p>“It so good!” She exclaims, smiling. “We have to put some cream over it when it’s cool, but I <em>love</em> how it turned out.”</p><p>“I’m glad you like it.” I smile. “Let’s leave it here for now, okay?”</p><p>“Okay. We can have some for dinner.”</p><p>“As you wish. Just… don’t tell your sister I let you do that.”</p><p>And with that, we leave the kitchen.</p><p>I thought I had forgotten what happiness was, but these days, with Weiss and I keeping each other company, I’m starting to remember how it is to not feel crushed all the time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. What makes you human - Weiss POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry! This is a shorter one, but I hope you like it anyway &lt;3 It was a bit painful to write, though :( I feel so much for them.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I barely lift my eyes from the scroll screen to say thank you when James places a cup of tea on the table right next to me, just like he does every morning. I’ve had no notice of any of my teammates since I returned to Atlas. It’s already been a week since I finally texted Yang after her not writing a letter back even though James told me that she already received her new arm and, consequently, seen the note I wrote; despite reading my messages, she hasn’t responded yet. Blake hasn’t read them, and Ruby hasn’t even received my texts. I’m starting to get worried.</p><p>“Is anything wrong, Weiss?”</p><p>James’ voice calling my name makes my pupils finally abandon the screen to look at him. He must have tried to shave this morning, because has no stubble, but four small paper pieces stained with blood stuck to his cheeks. My heart softens when I realize that there’s genuine worry in his eyes.</p><p>“Yang hasn’t texted me back.” I say, putting my phone away with a sigh and turning the screen upside down. I wrap my hands around the steaming porcelain cup, but it’s hot to the touch, so I place them some centimeters away from its surface to feel its warmth without burning my fingers. It smells like berries and sugar.</p><p>However, the strong scent of fresh black coffee soon overpowers that of the tea. I didn’t like it before, but now it doesn’t bother me that much since I’m used to James having it every morning. He takes a teaspoon and starts stirring his coffee very gently.</p><p>“I spoke to her father last night to ask if she had made any progress with her arm. He told me that she tried it on once but took it off right away, and she hasn’t touched it since. Apparently, her sister left their home without saying a word, so she must not be in a very good mental state right now.”</p><p>“That’s terrible.” I murmur with muffled voice. “Do they know where Ruby is now?”</p><p>“I’m afraid they don’t.” He says, shaking his head.</p><p>“That would explain why she hasn’t been receiving my messages.”</p><p>I should go see Yang, but I will wait until she gathers some strength and finally answers my texts. I trust that she is strong, and she will overcome everything; but I know her, and I know she wouldn’t like to be seen on her worst days. It’s better if I don’t put any more pressure on her, and my presence would only make things worse. Only time and patience will help her heal, and that’s everything I can offer to her right now. I don’t know where Blake has gone or where Ruby is, so I don’t have anywhere else to go right now; however, looking at James, I realize that the truth is…</p><p>I don’t really want to leave, either.</p><p>Morning light reflects on the waves I make on the tea’s liquid surface when I gently blow on it to cool it down, making the steam tremble away. Distracted in my thoughts I take a sip, and its sweet taste runs down my throat and warms my chest from the inside. Right here, with the soft tinkling sound of James’ teaspoon stirring his coffee and the stillness of a quiet morning, the world somehow feels a little less cold.</p><p>At least, until something breaks the atmosphere.</p><p>When James takes his coffee with his right hand and brings it to his lips to take the first sip, he makes a muffled groan of pain and suddenly drops the cup. It crashes against the table, and its content splatters his clothes. I jump on my seat, surprised.</p><p>“Oh, curses!” He exclaims, fanning his mouth with his hand and gently touching his lower lip with the tip of his index finger. “Now I’ve made a mess.” He sighs, looking at the fragments of the broken cup and the spilled coffee all over the table.</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“I burned my tongue.”</p><p>“How?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“The coffee was hot.”</p><p>“I know.” I say, and I roll my eyes. “I mean, didn’t you realize that the cup was hot when you picked it up?”</p><p>“I can’t.” He smiles. Then, he gets up from the table and disappears behind the kitchen’s door for a few seconds – he has taken a dishcloth when he comes out again.</p><p>I frown and slightly tilt my head, disconcerted. He can’t?</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“My prosthetic arm. I can’t feel cold nor heat with it.” He says as if it was nothing; then, he leans over the table and starts cleaning its surface. “I don’t feel pain either, so I didn’t realize that the coffee was hot. It has happened many times already, and I’m afraid that this won’t be the last one.” He smiles.</p><p>“Oh. I didn’t know. I thought it was like your other arm, but stronger.”</p><p>I saw James fighting a Grimm back at the Battle of Beacon. I remember it clearly. It was a huge Beowolf, and it fiercely pounced over him. If it had been a human arm, the impact of the attack would probably have thrown him to the floor and broken his aura, but James stopped its claw with his metal arm right before shooting it in the head.</p><p>“It formerly was, but now... not exactly. I can explain it to you if you want to, but I’m afraid it would probably bore you.”</p><p>“Oh, no, James.” I say, shaking my head a bit. “Please, tell me.”</p><p>“As you wish.” He responds, leaving the dishcloth over the table and sitting by my side. “I’m no scientist, and I’m sure Pietro would explain it much better, but I will try my best. Let’s see…</p><p>»At first, Pietro designed my prosthetics to be, as you said, like my other arm – half body, in this case – but stronger, and more resistant. They had every kind of receptor a human body has too: pain receptors, which, as their own name suggests, allow us to feel pain; thermoreceptors, which make us sense if something is hot or cold, and mechanoreceptors, which are sensitive to pressure. Are you following me here?”</p><p>“Yes, I think so.” I respond.</p><p>“Alright.” He smiles. “My prosthetics have a whole network of nerve implants, too, so these receptors would feel an external sensation, such as a hot cup of coffee, and would send it to my brain through this network. It flows both ways: not only does it send information to my brain, but it also allows my brain to send information to my prosthetics, just like a human arm or leg. That's what my neurotransmitter is for, and that’s why I can move them.”</p><p>I nod.</p><p>“One day, around seven years ago, I received a call from Jacques saying that there was a Grimm herd in one of the Schnee Dust Company mines in the mountains, and that he needed it exterminated as soon as possible. The Grimm from the mountains aren’t the easiest to kill: they hide underground or watch you from the mine roof, camouflaged, until they can jump on you. However, they are not that hard to eliminate if you already have some previous experience, so instead of sending the Ace Operatives, I thought that it would be a good occasion for the fourth-year Academy students to test their own abilities as almost certified Huntsmen and Huntresses. Each team was sent with one of the teachers to a different part of the mine, and I decided to go too.</p><p>»At that time, Winter was one of those fourth-year students, and since she was one of the most promising future Huntresses of the Academy - if not the most - and had manifested her desire to join the military, I wanted to see how she would handle a situation like that, so I decided that I would be the one to accompany her team to the expedition.  </p><p>»It was easy, at first – I didn’t have to intervene once; I just stood behind them and let them do what would be their future job. They managed well, and Winter, as team leader, showed an incredible understanding of fighting strategies and attack combos; it was a pleasure to watch. However, the further we went into the mines, the more abundant the amount of Grimm that emerged from their depths was, and it came to a point when four people were not enough to clear the path, so I had to draw Due Process – my guns – to help them fight the monsters. Eventually, we made it to a huge cavern at the very core of the mountain, and when I saw what was standing before us, I regretted not sending the Ace Operatives instead.</p><p>»Right at the center of the cavern was a gigantic worm Grimm emerging from the floor. Its circular mouth had three rows of sharp teeth, and was leaking a dark, thick substance from where smaller worm Grimm were materializing. The cavern walls were crowded with even more Grimm – every single one of their eyes, staring at us. The herd’s nest. It was way too late to call for reinforcements, because as deep in the mines as we were, our scrolls had no signal. We were alone. Before we could do anything, hundreds of Grimm moved as one and pounced on us, and the battle began.</p><p>»It was terrible. It was like a dark tsunami of killer monsters charging over us again and again, and the biggest one, the worm Grimm in the center of the cavern, attacked with powerful lashes, as if its whole body were a deadly whip. We managed to decimate the smaller ones thanks to the team’s coordination and your sister’s summons; by that time, however, all of the students but Winter had their auras broken. Two of them were out of combat, lying on the ground and unable to keep fighting. With all the small minions killed, it was our chance to lift the students up and just go and call for reinforcements when we got signal again, but the other student standing between Winter and I was panting in pain, and fell unconscious all of a sudden. Since she was the closest to him, Winter, who was hurt, bleeding, and almost out of aura, ran towards him. She kneeled and gave her back to the monster. While she was assisting her teammate, the giant Grimm charged against them once again. My guns don’t have a way to stop that kind of attack, so I did what I had to do: put myself between them and the Grimm.</p><p>»My metal arm stopped the blow, but the force of the impact made a shock of pain shake my whole body with such intensity that I thought it was tearing apart once more. I fell to my knees with my aura broken, grabbing my right arm – which was intact, but hurt like it had been broken into a million pieces – and screaming in pain. I was utterly out of combat, and in that moment, I thought it would be the end, that those students were going to die and that it would all be my fault for having made them come in the first place. Screaming, I managed to beg Winter to flee, to leave us and save herself.”</p><p>A glimpse of light crosses his eyes, and he sighs and smiles before continuing:</p><p>“But she didn’t. She stood up once more and attacked the giant Grimm with piercing ice skewers, and with her last remaining forces, she summoned the biggest Manticore I had ever seen; straight after that, she fell to the ground right beside me, unconscious from the effort. The last thing I remember before fainting from pain too, was Winter’s summon tearing the Grimm apart with its very own jaws.</p><p>»When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed – Winter was there, too, in another bed next to mine. Later on, I was told that another group of students found us all and carried us out of the mines. My recovery didn’t take long, but Winter had to be admitted for a couple of days. The first thing I did when I left the hospital was go to Pietro’s laboratory and ask him to remove my pain and temperature receptors from my prosthetics. Even though the impact broke my aura in the mines, it really was the pain I felt what prevented me from fighting anymore. It was only logic to deduct that if I hadn’t felt it, I could have kept going, so I decided that I didn’t want anything as mundane as pain to be the reason why I couldn’t save the people who depended on me. He seemed hesitant at first, but he finally agreed. He left the mechanoreceptors, though, because I need them to feel where things are, or when someone touches me. Without them I couldn’t even hold my gun, because I couldn’t tell whether I was holding it or not. It would be like not having an arm at all. Since then, however, it wouldn’t matter if a stampede of Goliaths run over the right half of my body – my aura would break, but I wouldn’t feel any pain, so I could fight them anyway.</p><p>»And… that is why I burned my tongue. I have mechanoreceptors, so I can sense a surface; however, since I have no temperature receptors or pain ones, I can’t tell if that very same surface is hot or cold. I usually try to have my coffee with my human hand precisely because of this, but even though I’m ambidextrous, my right one is still the dominant, so I sometimes forget and make a mess, just like it happened today.”</p><p>I stay silent for some seconds, still trying to assimilate everything he told me. I find it surprising how dedicated James is to his job that he decided to give up something as human as pain – even though he called it “mundane” – just to have fewer weaknesses when it comes to defending the people and fighting the Grimm. It breaks my heart a little, too. I can tell why people would call him “a robot” – it doesn’t take a brilliant mind to come up with such a name, anyway –; however, I highly doubt any of them know James’ very core: everything he does, he does it for the good of others. As much as he tries to distance himself from what he considers a disadvantage of being human in order to protect everyone else, he’s no robot, and he will never be, because he has something they lack: a heart. I look at him with sad eyes, and my irises land on the small pieces of blood-stained paper I noticed before.</p><p>“But your hands still tremble.” I murmur without thinking.</p><p>“They do.” He accepts with a sad smile. “My prosthetics are only immune to external pain, but apparently, not to my brain interfering with them because of stress. That’s why you heard me asking Pietro to remove their nerves, but if he did, I wouldn’t be able to move my prosthetics, so it would be like if I didn’t have them at all.”</p><p>You are not immune to what makes you human, James.</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>As sad as that may be.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The tie - Weiss' POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I get lost in thought, pondering over everything he just told me about: from how he asked Pietro to remove his sensors, to that Grimm herd that father warned him about seven years ago, and to how Winter, despite being on the verge of exhaustion, managed to save not only her teammates’ lives, but James’, too.</p><p><em>Winter</em>.</p><p>She’s everything I have always wanted to be; the one I’ve looked up to since I was able to hold Myrtenaster with only one hand. When I was little and still wasn’t allowed to train with my rapier, I would stick my nose to my bedroom’s window and spend my empty hours just looking at her training outside, in the back yard. The day she packed all her things and left the Schnee manor to train at Atlas Academy was the saddest of my short life – I cried for five nights in a row. Everything my sister has ever done has inspired me in ways I can't even explain. Unknowingly, Winter gave me the strength to defy everything that had been imposed on me since I was child; it is to her that I owe the person I am today, and for that I am incredibly grateful. However, being the middle child means that, despite Winter being my role model, I’ve always felt like no matter what I do, I will always be one step behind her.</p><p>The way James talks about her makes me feel moved, but for some reason, there’s something more – a tiny, little pinch of envy, too. Why do I…?</p><p>“Weiss.”</p><p>When his voice drags me back from my thoughts, I realize that the remaining tea in the cup I’m holding is now cold.</p><p>“Sorry, James.” I say, putting my cup away with a sigh. “What were you saying?”</p><p>“Are you okay?” He asks, leaving my question aside and looking at me with his deep blue eyes. He looks concerned. “Maybe my story was too boring for you. I apolo-”</p><p>“It wasn’t.” I strongly declare. “I was just… - I was lost in thought, that’s all.”</p><p>“Alright.” James concedes, resigned. He doesn’t seem convinced by what I said, but he doesn’t ask any more questions regarding the matter. “I was saying that the coffee spilled over my tie, too. Look.” He says, pointing at the small, darker blue coffee stains that splatter his tie. “Maybe we could go buy a new one when we’re done here, if you’d like to come with me. I have been wanting to make a visit to the tailor shop for a couple of months, but I haven’t found the time. Now that I’m taking some time off, however…”</p><p>“I will go, but only if you let me pick it for you.” I say, teasingly. “You can trust me – you know I have fine taste.”</p><p>“As you wish.” He smiles, and his eyes shine for a brief second. “I will add it to my tie collection.”</p><p>“Your what?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“My tie collection.” James responds. “What?” He laughs softly when he sees the face I’m making.</p><p>“Nothing.” I smile back at him. Of all the things that could be collected, James chooses… <em>ties</em>. Thinking it twice, however, it kind of suits him.</p><p>“It’s not a very common hobby, I must admit. But I like their colors.” He says.</p><p>The sight of him just caressing his tie and carefully examining the small coffee stains as if they were the worst thing to ever happen to him softens my heart. I’ve always known that he wasn’t the big, bad General everybody thought he was, but he is so nice for an army high-up that I can’t help but wonder how someone with such a kind heart made it to the top in the first place – now that I live here, every day he surprises me with a brief glance, a subtle gesture or a tint in his voice that makes me realize that he is, at his very core, even softer than I imagined. I don’t doubt his ability as leader of the military and headmaster of the Academy, but since Winter is the only army member I know besides him and she’s so cold and distant to others, I’ve always thought that you should be like just like that in order to succeed. However, James proves me wrong every time he looks at me and smiles, and it somehow gives me hope.</p><p>-----</p><p>The tailor shop is only five minutes away from Nix, the store where I bought my new battledresses and my starry cape. Lately, I wear it most of the day – it’s warm, soft, and beautiful, and it has become one of my favorite clothes ever.</p><p>A little bell chimes above us when James opens the door. I close it behind my back, and I take off my black silk gloves and put them in my pocket. Althought it’s not as cold today as it was when we visited Mister Polendina’s lab, I still appreciate the warmth inside the tailor shop.</p><p>The main, short aisle with wooden floor and a patterned red carpet leads directly to the counter, on whose sides two green lamps of warm light rest. Behind the counter, there’s a bald man with a bushy moustache – I suppose he’s the tailor. Flanking the main aisle and perpendicular to it, there are wooden shelves crowded with uniform jackets, suits, hats and gloves of all shapes and colors.</p><p>“Good morning, General Ironwood.”</p><p>“Good morning, Mister Hima. It’s been a while.”</p><p> “Indeed.” The man admits. “Around six months, if I recall correctly. Oh, Miss Schnee.” He says, raising both his eyebrows in surprise once he notices my presence. “I hadn’t seen you behind the General’s back. Good morning.”</p><p>“Good morning.” I respond.</p><p>“What brings you here today, General?” He asks, turning his attention back to James. “I doubt it is a new uniform order, since your second in charge was here for the exact same reason a couple of days ago.”</p><p>“Oh, Schnee was here?” James asks with interest. I can’t see his face from behind him, but in these past weeks I’ve slowly become aware of what every tint of his voice means - when he makes this one, he’s usually smiling. And there it is, once again: the little, subtle pinch of envy in my chest.</p><p>“She was.” The man responds. “I thought you sent her.”</p><p>“I didn’t. I’m currently taking some time off due to… <em>medical reasons</em>.”</p><p>“I understand. I suppose the Battle of Beacon has taken its toll on all of us.” He says, with a fake affected tone of voice.</p><p>I frown. I wonder how on Remnant could the Battle of Beacon have affected an Atlas’ tailor shop that provides the army in any way that wasn’t positive.</p><p>“Indeed.” James admits. “Do you know the reason behind her visit?”</p><p>“Well… She’s sparse in words, but she did mention that the military needed at least half a thousand new uniforms precisely because of the battle.”</p><p>As I was saying.</p><p>“Oh. It makes sense.” James responds.</p><p>“So, if it’s not the uniforms, then… I suppose it’s the usual, am I right? A tie.”</p><p>“A tie.” They say in unison. James laughs and nods, and the tailor smiles. “Yes, I would like a new one.”</p><p>“Perfect. Would you like me to escort you?”</p><p>Right in that moment, the bell chimes again, and I turn around. A woman dressed in a long fur coat and a gigantic pink cartwheel hat closes the door behind her.</p><p>“Thank you, Mister Hima, but there’s no need to. I know the way.” He says. “Good morning, Miss.” He slightly bows towards her, and then turns his attention back to me. “Over here, Weiss.”</p><p>I follow him through one of the perpendicular aisles, which seems a bit narrower than I expected. In its first half, the shelves that flank the aisle are crowded with cute bowties of all imaginable colors, but as we walk further down into the aisle, we finally make it to the necktie zone.</p><p>“Here we are.” James says, pointing at the ties with a wave of his arm.</p><p>“Good.” I respond, taking a quick look to one of the shelves, where I can already spot some interesting colors and patterns. <em>Oh</em>, that wine red is nice. “Now leave.” I demand, making a gesture with my hand.</p><p>“Oh? But why?” He asks.</p><p>“You said you would let me pick a tie for you, but you aren’t allowed to see it until I have decided which one I choose.”</p><p>He looks at me for a few seconds, as if he was trying to figure out my intentions – a little, subtle wrinkle appears between his eyebrows. “Alright.” He finally concedes with a resigned smile. “But I have to ask: am I obliged to wear it even if it doesn’t suit me?”</p><p>“It will suit you.” I assure, pouting, and I cross my arms. “And now, if you would <em>please</em> go away, <em>General</em>.” I say jokingly.</p><p>He raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“As you wish.” His cheekbones rise a bit – I can tell he’s holding back a smile. He slightly shakes his head before adding: “There’s a small room right where the aisle ends. If you need something from me, please say so, <em>Miss Schnee</em>.”</p><p>And he turns around to leave. I just look at him until he disappears from my sight – when he does, I allow myself to smile softly.</p><p>He usually doesn’t respond to my teasing – I don’t know if it’s because he’s oblivious to it or he deliberately chooses to ignore it, but I think it’s probably the former – but he has, this time, and my cheeks are warm.</p><p>I spend the next fifteen minutes examining dozens of ties, with the muffled conversation between the woman with the big hat and the tailor in the background. When I pick a tie, I ask myself if its color would make James’ eyes stand out; then, I scrutinize every stitch of its pattern, and I decide if I like it or not. If I don’t, I return it to the shelf – if I do, I hang it on my arm. It’s nice that I don’t have to worry about whether the color will match his clothes or not – he wears his uniform most of the time, and white goes with everything. Even though there are three ties I have picked - one is steel gray, but has a deep blue undertone that is just too beautiful to ignore; the second one is dark violet, with a white and lighter purple abstract pattern embellishing it; and the last one is just the plain wine red one I initially saw – none of them convinces me completely. However, after I finally rise my sight to the highest row of ties, the ones I’m holding hit the floor when I let my arms fall to my sides in surprise.</p><p>“What a happy coincidence.” I murmur with a smile.</p><p>It has to be that one.</p><p>I bend down to pick the fallen ties and return them to their shelves; then, I stand on tiptoe, trying to reach the one I’ve chosen from the top shelf – I only manage to touch it with my fingertips, but I can’t grab it. I look around, searching for a little bench to step on, but I don’t see any. I click my tongue, annoyed.</p><p>“James?” I ask to the empty aisle, and I wait a few seconds. There’s no response. “<em>General Ironwood</em>?” I try again, raising an eyebrow. I snort at the sight of his silhouette at the end of the aisle.</p><p>“Did you call me,<em> Miss Schnee</em>?”</p><p>I hold back a smile, trying to remain serious when he approaches me.</p><p> “I did. I would need your help, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Of course. I’m at your service.” He says, finally making it to my side. “What is it that you need?”</p><p>“I…” I clear my throat. We haven't been addressing each other formally for a while, so it sounds sort of funny doing it now; however, it makes me blush, too. “I need a tie from the highest row. No – no, don’t look!” I exclaim when he turns towards the shelf, and I grab his arm so he won't see it.</p><p>“What should I do, then?” He asks.</p><p>“Just… Just get me up.” I say.</p><p>He seems a little hesitant, and I blush when I realize what I have just asked him to do. Before I can suggest anything else, he responds with hushed voice:</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>The other option was for him to bend down while I stood on his back, so, thinking it twice, I suppose it’s better this way. However, when his hands grab me gently by my waist my heart skips a beat, I make a muffled surprise sound.</p><p>Okay. <em>Maybe</em> it wasn’t better this way.</p><p>He carefully lifts me up until the tie I chose is at my eye level. I can feel his arms trembling, but I highly doubt it’s because of my weight. We aren’t used to touching each other - just a little, brief brush of hands here and there, or a subtle caress on the shoulder when one of us is distracted. This, however, breaks all the unspoken, invisible barriers between us; ignoring that my chest is about to explode, I find myself surprised by the fact that it doesn’t bother me even a little.</p><p> “I’m done. You can put me down.” I say when I grab the tie.</p><p>My feet touch the floor, and James lets me go. I hurry to hide the tie behind my back before he can see it.</p><p>“Is there a mirror in the room you were in?” I ask.</p><p> “It is. A full-length one.”</p><p>“Perfect. Lead the way.”</p><p>It’s almost inhuman how cold my waist feels now that his fingertips no longer wrap it - it is only now that I realized how absurdly gentle his hands can be on me that I dare to admit I wish I could feel their touch more often. </p><p>We enter a circular room, not very spacious. There’s a velvet seat at its center, a huge mirror in a corner - a little big for a fitting room, so although there are no clothes in it, I understand why he mistook it for just another room. However, it is, indeed, a fitting room – it even has a little red velvet curtain at the entrance, which I slide behind my back.</p><p>“Sit there, please.” I ask, pointing at the velvet seat with my chin, and I add: “And close your eyes.”</p><p>Without a word, he does as I say. I approach him carefully – my hands, still hidden behind my back and gently holding the tie. Now that he can’t see me, I take a few seconds just to delight in looking at him: his strong, big hands, always covered by gloves hiding a shame that shouldn’t be; his subtle frown, unaware of my intentions; his soft, trembling lips, on which my eyes linger, almost hypnotized – for a second, I wonder… could I make them stop if I press them against mine?</p><p>And…</p><p>
  <em>Would he return the favor?</em>
</p><p>“Is something wrong?” James asks – his voice surprises me and makes me finally look away from his lips.</p><p>“No.” I hurry to respond, and I clear my throat. “No, sorry. Stay still, okay?”</p><p>I silently thank that his eyes are still closed so he can’t see the slight shaking of my hands when I pass the tie behind his neck – if he <em>feels</em> it, though, he doesn’t say anything about it. I take a bit more time than needed in knotting the tie, just for the guilty pleasure of feeling his body close to mine –</p><p>and because of my trembling hands, <em>evidently</em>.</p><p>“It’s done.” I murmur, looking at the result. The knot could be better, but it’s not terrible. “Don’t open your eyes yet.”</p><p>When he stands up, I place a hand on his back and I carefully guide him until he is in front of the mirror.</p><p>“Okay. You can open them now.”</p><p>It’s cute how, even as soft as his expression always is, it becomes even softer at the sight of the tie I chose. It was such a coincidence, I must say, that the very same fabric my starry cape is made of was also used to make a tie, and that it was waiting on the highest shelf to be picked by me. What I find most special is that it’s not really the beautiful navy blue what matches James’ irises, but the stars - the same stars that shine in his eyes every time he looks at me.</p><p>“Do you like it?” I ask with contained emotion. “Now we match.”</p><p>He caresses it so gently that it seems he’s afraid of tearing it apart.</p><p>“It’s beautiful, <em>Weiss</em>.” He says with trembling voice; then, he looks away from the mirror until his eyes land on me, and he leans forward. The next thing I know is that he…</p><p>He is <em>hugging</em> me.</p><p>I hugged him once, too, back at Mister Polendina's lab, but this time, it feels different, because he is the one who took the lead. He holds me tightly against his chest, where I can hear how fast and loud his heartbeat is – or is it mine? His chin rests over my head, and he softly presses his right hand against my back. I can feel my cheeks burning, but I hide it in his tender embrace, softer than I would have ever dreamed of. I close my eyes and delight in this moment, and I swear that I will never forget it, for this is the closest James and I will ever be, even though I long for more. I’m convinced that, from now on, the ghost of his warm touch will haunt me forever like a freezing breeze that could only be stopped if he hugged me once more.</p><p>But he doesn’t. He lets go, and whispers:</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>I can’t really speak right now, so I just nod and shyly smile back.</p><p><em>God</em>.</p><p>I’m already cold.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>2 Weiss' POVs in a row, and the third is yet to come! All of them were initially a single chapter, but it would have come up way longer than I like them to be, so I just decided to split them in different scenes. I don't think many people read it, but for those you do, I hope you like it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The training room - Weiss' POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Thank you, Mister Hima.” James says after paying for the tie, which he hasn’t taken off. I wanted it to be a present, but he said that choosing it for him was already a gift, and he didn’t let me pay.</p><p>“It will be my collection’s crown jewel.” He smiles, once we’re on our way back to the Academy. The fact that he’s in such a good mood makes me happy; however, since I’m staring at the floor as we walk and I’m still shocked he hugged me, my discreet smile doesn’t really show it. “The starry pattern is really beautiful – I must recognize I was a bit envious of your cape.” He softly laughs. “Oh! It has just reminded me that I have yet to show you my office. How could I have forgotten? We could go tonight, if you want to. I guarantee you the views are worth it.”</p><p>My heart lights up at his offer, but I just nod in silence. I can hear the sound James’ breath makes when he slightly opens his mouth to add something, only to be interrupted by his ringing scroll.</p><p>“General Ironwood.” He says when he picks it up. “Oh. Hi, Winter.”</p><p>Curious, I raise my sight a little when I hear my sister’s name.</p><p>“Yes. Oh, that would be excellent! Will you stay for dinner? Oh… Alright. See you later, then. Goodbye.”</p><p>He hangs up.</p><p>“Winter says she will be visiting us this afternoon. I told her some days ago that your brother had Myrtenaster sent to you, so she has been trying to get work done in advance in order to make some spare time for her to train with you. She’s still quite busy, though, so she won’t be staying for dinner, but it will be nice having her around for a while, don’t you think?” He asks with a smile.</p><p>Normally, I would have jumped of happiness at the thought of Winter and I training together – this time, however, my smile only accentuates a little, still unnoticed. “Yes.” I say quietly. It must not be the reaction he was expecting, because he frowns a little before quietly asking:</p><p> “Are you alright, Weiss?”</p><p>I don’t know.</p><p>
  <em>Am I?</em>
</p><p>“I…”</p><p>I look him in the eye, and when I do, I can see how his ghosts of guilt come out from the deepest of his mind and start gathering up behind his irises, eclipsing his stars. His frown deepens, and his jaws tighten. If I have learnt something from my stay in an empty Atlas Academy only with James’ company, is that he has a terrible tendency to do that – to blame himself for absolutely everything. It’s not fair for him.</p><p>“Is it because…?”</p><p>“It’s not your fault.” I quickly declare – my voice, suddenly coming back to me only to fade away right after, and I quiet down again.</p><p>How do I tell him? How do I tell him that, for quite some time now, a day won’t pass without me longing for the soft touch of his hand over my shoulder, for his voice echoing in the empty halls as he calls my name? How do I tell him that now I’ve felt how warm his embrace is, Atlas’ wintry breeze seems like nothing compared to the lack of his arms around me? I feel like I’m freezing on every inch he rested his hands upon, and not even ten minutes have passed since we left the tailor shop. I wonder… is this how it’s going to be, from now on? Every time he's not touching me, even with gloved hands, am I doomed to this painful cold until he does it again?</p><p>The answer is simple: I can’t tell him. For now, the only thing I can do is sigh, and say:</p><p>“I’m just cold.”</p><p>It’s a half-truth, anyway.</p><p>Only two seconds after, I shudder under the unexpected weight of his uniform jacket over my cape, and I smile softly and hold it tightly. If I close my eyes and inhale deeply, I can pretend we’re back in the fitting room.</p><p>It’s not his arms, but it’ll do for now.</p><p> </p><p>---------</p><p> </p><p>“Would you like a warmup before your sister arrives?” He suggests once we’re back in the Academy. Although I’ve had Myrtenaster for a few weeks, I still haven’t trained yet. I could have done it with James, but he has been resting both physically and mentally, and I didn’t want to ask him to because he would have said yes even though he wasn’t recovered. Training alone is something I used to do when I was trapped at the Schnee manor all bored and lonely, but now that I’m not anymore, I prefer spending my days just small talking with James and resting my mind, too. However, it’s true that I miss the feeling of my perfectly balanced rapier in my hands.</p><p>And I would love to train with him, too.</p><p>“How’s your… <em>trembling</em>?” I ask cautiously, taking the jacket off and returning it back to him. His wooden fragrance, caught in every corner of his jacket, has made me somehow regain some strength in my voice. I still feel his phantom touch on my back, but I can force myself to ignore it for now. “Do you think you can fight?”</p><p>“It’s better.” He responds with a soft smile. “Still a little shaky as you noticed at breakfast, but I think I can manage.”</p><p>He threw away the blooded little paper pieces that were stuck to his cheeks earlier this morning, but the small scabs that reveal where he cut himself are still visible. I kind of miss his ten-day stubble, but I take his -more or less successful- attempts of shaving every four or five days as a sign that he’s saying the truth.</p><p>“Alright, then.” I concede, smiling back. “But I would need some powdered Dust.”</p><p>“There’s a bit of every kind in the training room, I believe - at least there used to be before the students left.”</p><p>“Perfect. Let me grab Myrtenaster first.”</p><p>He accompanies me to my room to take my rapier, and then we walk through the hallways until we make it to a big metallic door with Atlas’ logo engraved on its surface. It glows blue when he presses a white button on the wall, and the door opens right after.</p><p>It’s just a black, huge and empty room with blue leds on the ceiling and a window at the top that serves as a lookout. I didn’t really have any expectations, but the truth is that I feel slightly disappointed – knowing Atlas’ state-of-the-art technology, I had imagined it to be… I don’t know. I thought there would be screens that would let you pick an enemy, and it would materialize as a hologram in front of you, or something. Maybe some of the military’s battle robots to battle against, too. But this? Come on. Even Beacon’s training room was better, and it was literally a little room with a white mat and some weapons hung on the wall, which we obviously didn’t use because we had our own. I mean, we didn’t need a lot more since we could just go train in the forest and it doesn’t rain that much in Vale, but what are Atlas Academy’s students supposed to do, go fight each other in the courtyard even though it’s freezing outside only to have something to interact with that it’s not just a plain empty room?</p><p>“What’s with that face, Weiss?” James asks, raising an eyebrow and slightly smiling.</p><p>“Is this <em>all</em>?” I ask disdainfully, pointing at the empty room with a gesture of my hand.</p><p>“What? Of course not.” He laughs. “Let’s take the Dust you asked for before we start, shall we?”</p><p>I frown, intrigued, but I follow him to the room with the lookout. There’s a pretty nice view of the <em>fancy, state-of-the-art</em> <em>nothingness</em> from up here, isn’t it? James takes off his left glove and places his hand on the fingerprint reading screen. A camouflaged drawer opens and reveals a collection of powdered Dust vials.</p><p>“Which ones do you need?”</p><p>“Red, blue, yellow, cyan, white and purple.” I name.</p><p>He takes six vials and hands them to me. I head to the table and carefully extract the practically empty vials from Myrtenaster; then, I replace them with the new ones. I don’t realize James is looking over my shoulder until I hear his voice not more than five centimeters away from my ear.</p><p>“Could I see it?” James asks with interest.</p><p>I shiver at the feeling of his breath so close to my skin, but I manage to conceal it.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>He picks Myrtenaster so gently that I believe he thinks it’s going to break. He examines its blade with critical eye and tests its balance – a soft smile appears in his face as he spends some time just admiring the beautiful silver engravements of the bridges that join the blade with the handle and runs his index fingertip along its surface. Very carefully, James makes the cylinder spin – he seems fascinated by my rapier’s revolver mechanism. It’s strange seeing him with a sword-like weapon, but even though Myrtenaster seems to be too tiny for him, I kind of like it. Maybe a bigger sword would fit him more.</p><p>“I’ve always wondered how you students manage to make a gun out of almost everything.” He says, still examining the cylinder.</p><p>“Myrtenaster is not a gun.” I correct him. “It has no bullets. But I know what you mean – all my teammates’ weapons can turn into firearms, too. I don’t really see the appeal, but it’s handy, I suppose.” I say, shrugging. “You know… you have a melee weapon, but, <em>surprise</em>! It’s also a gun.”</p><p>“I… I think I prefer a gun that’s <em>only</em> a gun.” He softly laughs before returning Myrtenaster back to me. “It’s beautiful. Truly a masterpiece.”</p><p>“Thank you.” I smile, and I hook it to my belt. It’s nice feeling the light weight of my rapier hanging from my waist once again, fully functional and ready to be used. We make or way down to the empty training room once again – even though it’s <em>still</em> a disappointment, I’m starting to feel the sweet, tingling sensation on my fingertips before a training session. In one of the side walls, he points at yet another button.</p><p>“Okay, Weiss. Would you do the honors?”</p><p>I raise an eyebrow, but I play along and push the button anyway. An <em>actual</em> holographic screen appears right before my eyes, blinding me for a second. “Oh.” I murmur, and I blink a couple of times to try to get used to the sudden source of light. There’s a checkered rectangle onscreen. “What is that?”</p><p>“It’s a map of the training room.”</p><p>“But I only see squares.”</p><p>“Because it’s bidimensional. You have to make it <em>tridimensional</em>.” He says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.</p><p>“What do you mean?” I ask, confused, and I lean my head.</p><p>“Touch a square and slide your finger up.” He smiles.</p><p>I do as he says, and a column made of digital cubes is created under my finger – only two seconds after, a noise behind my back makes me jump in surprise. When I turn around, the very same column I just built onscreen has materialized right before my eyes.</p><p>“What…?”</p><p>“The battle arena can be designed in any way one pleases.” He says, answering my unspoken question. “It doesn’t have changing ecosystems like Amity Arena did, but it’s useful to picture different kind of scenarios. For example, if you do this…” He says, standing by my side and creating some new columns behind us. “You have a space that’s pretty similar to the Academy cafeteria. Or, if you do this…” He moves some cubes again. “See? That’s my office.”</p><p>It’s hard to imagine how his office looks like with just a few cubes, but I get what he means – the space we can move around is pretty much the same as if we were there.</p><p>“I like it.” I say. This is something up to what I was expecting – not just a plain, empty room, but a modern training room that works with fancy Atlas technology. “Can I design the arena?”</p><p>“Of course.” He says. “I forgot I need one powdered Dust vial too, so I’ll go get it in the meantime.”</p><p>“Do your guns need Dust?” I ask, interested. I don’t remember him using it at the Battle of Beacon.</p><p>“Only one of them.” He says.</p><p>“What kind?”</p><p>“It wouldn’t be smart of me if I told you.” He smiles. “You will see.” He turns around and heads to the room above, and he leaves me wondering what his guns’ special ability will be. I watch him go until he disappears up the stairs. Red Dust, maybe? No, I doubt it. I don’t really see him shooting balls of fire out of his gun. Maybe it’s fire bullets? But he would need Dust ammunition for that, not powdered Dust. The same thing happens with blue dust – maybe ice bullets, but definitely not icicles. I can picture him shooting hard-light projectiles, though. Something doesn’t quite fit at all, but I guess it must be cyan powdered Dust. It’s what suits him best, I think.</p><p><em>Hm</em>.</p><p>I return my attention to the screen next to me, and I lean my head a bit, thinking about what kind of arena I could design. Nothing too big to not fit in this room – nothing too small to be done with the battle only a minute in. An idea pops up in my mind, and I carefully start building columns under my index finger. It takes me a while since I’ve chosen a slightly difficult scenario, but once I’m almost done, I turn around to contemplate my work. James can’t see me from the lookout anymore, because I’m now under a colonnade that runs alongside this wall – there’s another exactly like this one on the opposite side of the room. From here I can see the staircase I built right in the middle of the room, but I step outside to check the corridors that run right over the colonnades. I smile, pleased, before returning to the screen. One final touch and…</p><p>“Are you done, Weiss?” James’ voice comes from the stairs, right at the end of the colonnade.</p><p>“Almost.” I respond. My fingers land on the screen for the last time, and to finish I build two more huge columns flanking the staircase. “Now I’m done.”</p><p>“I’ve been looking at you from above until you built this over yourself.” James makes it to my side, and points at the colonnade ceiling. “It’s… an intricate design.” He says, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”</p><p>“The Schnee Manor’s main hall.” I say.</p><p>“Oh. Those big columns you just built are the giant knight statues?”</p><p>“They are.” I laugh. “They’re not as fancy at the original ones, but will serve the purpose.”</p><p>His amused smile slowly turns into a soft one, and he quietly looks at me before asking in a low voice: “Do you miss your home?” Now that I’ve been with him for some time and I’ve memorized every tint of his tired, hushed voice, I can sense that there’s hidden sadness in his question, too.</p><p>“It’s not that.”</p><p>“You know, Weiss, that if you ever want to leave…” He begins.</p><p>“James.” I call his name, and his starry eyes gaze upon me. “I don’t want to leave. I simply thought that the Manor’s main hall would be an interesting battlefield, nothing more.” I assure with a gentle smile.</p><p>He holds his breath for four seconds – just as he does every time he’s trying to regain the composure he thinks I didn’t see him lose.</p><p>“Alright.” He concedes. “But Weiss, I mean it: I don’t want you to feel trapped here. If you ever w…”</p><p>“<em>James</em>.” I repeat with a sharp tone, frowning.</p><p> “Okay, okay.” He sighs, resigned, and shakes his head.  “Take a position, then, and we shall begin.”</p><p>I nod, and I leave the colonnade and go up the staircase – it’s only when I reach the top that I turn around. I wrap Myrtenaster’s handle with my fingers, and a shiver runs down my spine when I feel its cold touch against my skin. I unhook it from my belt and test its perfect swing once again. I love the sound it makes when it cuts the air. A brief smile lights up my face at the thought of the challenge that’s about to begin.</p><p>“Don’t hold back.” I can’t see him from up here, but I hear James’ voice coming from where I left him: right next to the room screen.</p><p>“And you don’t go easy on me.” I respond with hardened voice, defiant.</p><p>I close my eyes and hold my breath, getting lost in the sound of Myrtenaster’s spinning cylinder – when it clicks, I exhale slowly, feeling my lungs as they empty.</p><p>And I open my eyes again.</p><p>With an elegant swing of my rapier, an ice ray emerges from its blade and builds a wall that covers the colonnade columns, leaving James shut inside. There’s absolute silence for a couple of seconds, and I smile, satisfied, only to be surprised by a banging noise, followed by a loud crack – the deafening sound of the ice barrier when it crashes under the punch of James’ metal arm echoes all over the training room. He steps into the hallway, holding one of his guns on his left hand.</p><p>“Trust me, <em>Miss Schnee</em>; I won’t.”</p><p>As he raises his arm, I raise an eyebrow – a quick, hard-light barrier stops his bullets so easily that it’s almost insulting. Nonetheless, he keeps firing – even when he pulls his other gun out and aims at the floor. <em>What is he doing? </em>He pulls the trigger and, before my astonished eyes, he’s all of a sudden flying over my head, still shooting at me with his white gun and forcing me to keep my barrier up.</p><p>
  <em>Gravity Dust. </em>
</p><p>That was a smart move, James.</p><p>He lands at the top of the staircase right behind my back, but I turn around just in time to stop his metal arm punch with Myrtenaster. Its blade never bends, but I do – the strength of the blow makes me lose my balance, and he takes that chance to kick me in the stomach and send me rolling down the stairs.</p><p><em>Ouch</em>.</p><p>I get up from the floor – I accidentally bit my lip when I was falling and it’s bleeding now, so I clean it with the back of my hand. It is only now that I regret the lack of training these couple of months I’ve spent here.</p><p>“Be careful what you wish for.” He says, as he starts walking down the stairs with his white gun pointed at me. When he’s halfway down he starts shooting again, but I can dodge his bullets easily right before making a thin ice layer appear under his feet. He slips when he steps on it and rolls down the stairs, too – it gives me enough time to cast an ice pool between us and make it sublimate with a fire wave. A dense vapor cloud fills the room, and I know he can’t see me anymore.</p><p>I can’t <em>see</em> him either, but I know where he <em>is</em> – in the vapor mist, I spot the blue led on his chest shining through his white clothes. I can’t move or else the sound of my steps will let him know where I am; but what if I do it so quickly that my feet don’t touch the floor? Six white glyphs surround him and one appears behind me; the latter is the one that gives me the initial impulse and before he can react, I’m jumping from one glyph to another striking him with my rapier. James grunts when his flesh starts bleeding and stains his white, ripped uniform with dark red; he tries to grab me, but I move way too quickly for him to do it – at least until he simply extends his right arm and I, in the middle of a jump and unable to stop due to my momentum, crash into it at full speed. The hit leaves me breathless and makes me fall on my knees. He tries to kick me once again, but I freeze his feet to the ground and jump away from him. He frowns, incapable of moving.</p><p>“You know, <em>General Ironwood</em>…” I say with a smile as I try to catch my breath. “I expected better from the head of the military.”</p><p>James snorts a laugh and breaks the ice with a gunshot; then, he starts running towards me. I use my red Dust to throw fire projectiles in his direction only for him to stop them with his prosthetic arm – the one that doesn’t feel pain – as he keeps moving forward. His right sleeve is on fire, and I can now see the metal underneath his burnt clothes, gleaming under the flame – he puts it out with a shake of his hand before finally making it to my side. A punch is thrown right at my face, but I avoid it with grace just as I do with the next one. As we dance without music a deadly waltz of blades and fists, our eyes meet for a brief instant – mine, glowing in defiance; his, shiny tempered steel.</p><p>It astounds me how fiery of a fighter he is – how physical, even though he has two guns. I never imagined him, as calm and tender and quiet and gentle as he always is, to have this passion, this ferocity when it comes to a fight. I hear him grunting in effort whenever the throws a blow, and it gives me goosebumps – I can feel my heart beating hard against my chest, but I can’t tell if it’s it due to the pumping adrenaline because of the battle, or if it’s something more.</p><p>Lost in my thoughts I let my guard down – that’s when his fist lands upon my stomach once again, and the force of the impact throws me through the air until my back hits one of the colonnade’s columns, and I fall to the floor. My aura flickers, almost out but not completely broken. From here, I can see how James’ body language changes. His shoulders lower, and he lets a subtle sigh out as he looks at his bleeding arm. His soothing voice breaks the silence.</p><p>“It’s over.”</p><p>He starts walking towards me, but I raise my left arm with the palm extended, and he stops halfway and stays still.</p><p>“It’s not.” I declare.</p><p>“Are you sure?” He asks, concerned.</p><p>All I do in response is nail my weapon to the ground and hold onto it as I get up from the floor. I recompose myself as much as I can and grab Myrtenaster’s handle with all the remaining strength in me.</p><p>“Alright.” He says, shaking his head. He runs in my direction for what shall be the last time, but a wind cone coming out of my rapier slows his movements down. He aims at the floor with his gravity Dust gun and fires, but once he’s out of my wind attack and over my head, I cast a field of icicles on the floor. When he reaches the zenith of his trajectory, a sided, subtle smile makes my eyes sparkle for a second.</p><p>
  <em>I got you. </em>
</p><p>Myrtenaster’s cylinder rotates once again and loads purple dust into its blade. A black glyph appears over James’ head, and with a shake of my arm a gravity blow stops James’ natural trajectory and sends him straight to the floor, making him crash into the icicle field. Another black glyph is casted on one of his sides, and this time the force of gravity sends him flying through the air and smashes him against one of the columns that emulate the Schnee Manor’s statues. His aura – the same blue color as his eyes – breaks and vanishes. I cast one last glyph behind my back that gives me the impulse I needed to quickly make it to his side, and with a twist of my wrist -</p><p>My pointy rapier’s blade, gently held against his chin.</p><p>His white gun within his trembling hand, aimed at my head.</p><p>We stay like for a while, gazing into each other’s eyes, with the only sound of our heavy breaths and our fast heartbeats filling the air. I can see a pumping vein in his neck due to the adrenaline; I can see how his collarbone bleeds, too, just like his arm does; and I can see how his lips tremble the same way they did in the fitting room. I feel a lump in my throat, and the sudden urge to run straight into his arms and kiss him squeezes my chest and burns my very core.</p><p>James smiles, completely unaware to the storm that’s raging inside me, throws his gun at the floor, and raises both arms in surrender.</p><p>“I guess we can call it a draw.”</p><p>“I…” I mumble, struggling to put more than two words together. “I…”</p><p>
  <em>God, I want you so bad.</em>
</p><p>“<em>What</em> are you doing?” A loud voice – Winter’s voice breaks into the room, startling me and making me cut James’ neck <em>just a bit</em>. He frowns in pain, but he doesn’t make a sound.</p><p>“Hi, Winter.” I respond, turning around and hooking Myrtenaster back to my belt. “We were…” I murmur.</p><p>“Hello, Winter.” James says, stepping in and interceding for me. He places his metal hand on my shoulder, and I calm down a little. “We figured we could warmup just a little before you came.”</p><p>“Just a – <em>just a little</em>!?” Winter asks. “You’re bleeding, General!”</p><p>“This?” James looks at his arm soaked in blood. “This is nothing – not more than superficial scratches.”</p><p>“<em>Not more than</em>… Oh, god.” She rolls her eyes, and clears her throat to recompose herself. “Sir, I would recommend you go cure your wounds.”</p><p>“I’m fine, Winter.”</p><p>“With all due respect, sir, I’m afraid I must insist.”</p><p>James slightly leans his head to a side, but he finally gives up.</p><p>“Alright.” He concedes with a sigh. “I’ll be back in no time.”</p><p>And he leaves for the upper room.</p><p>“And you?” Winter asks, frowning.</p><p>“I’m alright.”</p><p>“No, you’re not.” She says with a harsh tone of voice. “How are you supposed to train your summons in this state? Do you know how much work I had to get done in advance only to have two spare hours with you? What were you thinking, Weiss?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Winter. I…”</p><p>She clicks her tongue and shakes her head in disappointment.</p><p>“If I return to the military now, I’ll still be able to come back tomorrow. I’ll meet you here at sunrise.” She determines before turning his back on me and leaving me all alone in the fake simulation of the Schnee Manor’s hall.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The voice - Ironwood's POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My uniform jacket and shirt, both ripped and stained with blood, lay on the floor of the upper room’s attached infirmary. It’s not the main dispensary, but it’s useful when the students hurt themselves in a training session. Weiss managed to cut me in more places than I had counted, and it takes a while until I clean every wound in my arm with warm water and carefully disinfect it. I slightly frown - they don’t hurt that much, but they sting a bit.</p><p>“Your back is bleeding.”</p><p>Weiss’ muffled voice interrupts me while I’m searching the drawers next to the gurney I’m sitting on. I turn around, only to see her leaning against the door frame.</p><p>“Oh. Hello, Weiss.” I say, smiling softly. “I’ll be done in a moment – I just need to find some band-aids. Please, tell Winter to wait five minutes more, and that I’m sorry for the wait.”</p><p>“Your back is bleeding, James.” She repeats. Weiss stays under the doorway, hesitant, but she finally steps into the infirmary and approaches me slowly, dubitative.</p><p>“I know – I can’t reach my wounds there, but I’ll clean them later when I take a shower.” I say, returning my attention to the drawers and opening one of them – not a band-aid on sight, so I close it right after. Where did they put them?</p><p>“I can do it.”</p><p>“Hm?” I ask, turning around. Weiss looks at me with gleaming eyes for a second, but then she lowers her sight again. I can still notice her subtle blushing.</p><p>“Disinfect the wounds on your back.” She says. “I can do it, if you want to.”</p><p>My heart skips a beat at her offer.</p><p>
  <em>I…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please, do it.</em>
</p><p>“Thank you, Weiss, but there’s no need to.” My words manage to come across the lump on my throat. “Winter’s waiting downstairs, and I don’t want to make her waste more time.”</p><p>“Winter’s gone.” She says.</p><p>“What?” I ask, frowning. “Why?”</p><p>“Training summons after a battle isn’t highly recommended, James.” She softly laughs, still staring at the floor. “I’m almost out of Aura, and I think she wants me rested so I can give it my best. It’s fair. She said she’ll come back tomorrow.”</p><p><em>Of course</em>. How could it not be my fault – how could <em>anything</em> not be my fault? My burning chest as we were dancing through the battle completely blinded my senses, and I have no excuse. I sigh, and rub my eyes with my fingertips.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t even think about it. I should have stopped when I kicked you down the stairs.”</p><p>“It’s okay, James: I asked you to not hold back. It had been a long time since I last trained with someone, and I had fun. Besides, if you had decided to stop the battle, how else could I have won?” She smiles, raising her sight and looking at me again – when she does, I notice a small, subtle cut on her lip.</p><p>“Oh. Did you think you won?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“Well, I wasn’t the one to throw my weapon to the floor.” She shrughs.</p><p>“… Fair enough.” I concede, laughing softly.</p><p>We both hold each other’s gaze for a while, until Weiss speaks again.</p><p>“Well, James, will you let me clean your wounds, or what?” She asks.</p><p>I can feel the lump on my throat tighten again. I have a <em>subtle</em> idea of what it is that I’m feeling – that I feel every time she looks at me with crystal eyes; every time she gifts me a distracted smile; every time she speaks my name with hushed voice. I don’t want to name it because it would be finally accepting it, even though I’ve been trying to ignore it for some time now. However, since her voice awakened my frozen heart, it seems to have taken away the best of me – was it the best, though, keeping it under such a thick steeled cover that I have more than once asked myself if it, in my deepest core, had turned into stone, too? Did Weiss take away the best of me,</p><p>
  <em>or did she give it back?</em>
</p><p>“Alright.” I murmur, suddenly becoming aware of how loud and fast my heart beats in this very moment.</p><p>Weiss slightly nods with a smile and leaves my side. I can hear her opening and closing drawers, but I can’t see her from here. When she returns, she does it with a clean, moistened towel and a small paperboard box in her hand.</p><p>“I found some band-aids, too.” She says, shaking the little box and leaving it on the gurney. "I think you need them."</p><p>“Perfect. Thank you, Weiss.”</p><p>She places herself behind my back to examine my wounds, and I shudder when I feel the moistened towel against my blooded skin. It’s not the soft, stinging sensation of my open wounds being cleaned what makes me shiver – it’s the thought that her hand could slip and her bare fingers could briefly touch my skin at any moment. My hands are shaking a little, too, but Weiss can’t see it from where she’s standing.</p><p>“Does it hurt?”</p><p>“Not at all.”</p><p>“I didn’t know I injured you this much.” She says with hushed voice.</p><p>“Me neither.” I respond, smiling softly. “I think you’re faster than you believe. You showed really impressive fighting techniques, Weiss; even though I saw you fighting at the Battle of Beacon, I didn’t know you had such an advanced glyph mastery. It was really impressive.”</p><p>“Oh. Thank you, James.”</p><p>The sight of Weiss gently holding the pointy tip of her rapier against my throat crosses my mind. The threat of the cold metal against my skin; her heavy breathing and messy hair, consequences of the heat of battle; her eyes, gleaming with icy fire, fiercely piercing through mine and rendering me unarmed, both figuratively and literally. She was right when she said she won, because the truth is that even before the fight started, I didn't have any other choice but to surrender. She was radiant and beautiful; she could have plunged the blade through my flesh and I would have thanked her for allowing herself to be the last thing my eyes saw.</p><p>“I’m almost done.” She says, putting the towel away and picking the small box. “Now, let me…”</p><p>There it is – the subtle brush of her fingertips right when she places a band-aid over one of the cuts on my back. I get goosebumps on the back of my neck, and I have to bite my lower lip to hold back a sigh. It’s the second time I can feel her touch on my skin – the first one was in Pietro’s laboratory, when she gently placed her hand over my prosthetic shoulder and I placed my human one over hers – it was brief and tender, and my metal and skin have craved to feel it again ever since. Soon there is a third one, and a fourth, and a fifth – every time she puts a band-aid on, my heart beats even faster. When she has finished with the wounds on my back, she goes around the gurney to stand in front of me, and starts doing the same with the ones on my arm.</p><p>I can finally see her – her sweet, distracted smile, as she carefully covers every single wound with yet another band-aid. It is now, looking at her, that I notice that her little cut on her lower lip has started bleeding – my eyes get stuck on the tiny, small garnet droplet that threatens to fall and crash to the ground. I know I shouldn’t be doing this – whatever it is that I am doing – , but a force more powerful than myself makes me raise my left arm and place my fingertips on her chin. It still trembles – so does Weiss when my thumb gently brushes the blood away from her lips.</p><p>“James…?” She mutters – her voice is a whisper about to break.</p><p>“I…”</p><p>But mine is already shattered in pieces.</p><p>What if I do it? What if I leave behind everything I’ve ever been and let myself surrender to my feelings <em>once and for all</em>? Would it be so bad? Would it be so wrong? Would I be to blame for this, too? What am I, but a broken man with the weight of the world over my shoulders? What if I kiss her? Would it ease some weight, or would it make the burden heavier?</p><p>“Weiss<em>…</em>”</p><p>
  <em>I can’t. I can’t force her to ease my burden by making her share its weight, too.</em>
</p><p>“I’m sorry.” I say, shaking my head. When my fingertips abandon her chin, it strikes me as the most painful thing I’ve ever done. I clear my throat before asking: “Are you done?”</p><p>The disconcerted look on her face hurts my chest.</p><p>“I… I am.”</p><p>“Alright. Thank you, Weiss.” I lean forward to pick my ripped and bloodstained uniform shirt from the floor, but when I get up again, I don’t dare look at her. “I’ll go put some clean clothes on. Would you wait for me at the cafeteria to have dinner?”</p><p>“… Okay?” She responds.</p><p>“Perfect. It won’t take long.”</p><p>I cross the Schnee Manor’s hall simulation without looking back – my pouncing heart, echoing in my chest as loud as my quick steps do in the hallways, finally cools down a little once I close my bedroom’s door behind my back and let myself slip to the floor.</p><p>-------</p><p>“I’m sorry I made you wait. Are you hungry?”</p><p>I had to throw the other uniform away, but I’m finally back at the cafeteria with a clean one and my starry tie luckily still in one piece. After washing my face with cold water, I have finally managed to recompose myself a little – enough, at least, to be able to look into Weiss’ eyes without the lump in my throat drowning my words away.</p><p>Or so I thought.</p><p>“Are you okay, James?” She answers my question with a new one – her eyes, looking at me with concern. That’s all it takes – a caring gaze and my name on her lips – for her to tear all my newly built barriers to pieces. Maybe they weren’t strong enough – the most likely option, however, is that no matter how thick I reconstruct my iron walls they will break again, and again, and again, for she has the power to crush them with a single caress.</p><p>“Of course.” I say, forcing a gentle smile. “Why do you ask?”</p><p>It’s a rhetorical question, evidently –</p><p>“…No reason.”</p><p>– so if she doesn’t mention what happened in the infirmary, so I won’t.</p><p>In the silence that falls upon us, I can hear the deafening noise of my heartbeat in my ears – I slightly open my mouth to say something, but words won’t come, so I close it again and sigh deeply. Instead of just standing there I head to the kitchen; when I come out again, I do it with our dinner.</p><p>“I’ll apologize to Winter tomorrow, when she comes back.” I say in an attempt to break the silence. Weiss looks taciturn – she doesn’t even raise her eyes when I place her plate next to her. “I was going to give her a call tonight, but I think she will be busy. I’d rather not disturb her.”</p><p>“James…” She murmurs with downcast eyes.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>I silently beg for one and only thing:</p><p>
  <em>Please don’t ask about what happened before.</em>
</p><p>“How do you feel about Winter?”</p><p>The question puzzles me a little, but I hold back a sigh, relieved. I don’t know if I could come up with an answer good enough to excuse my actions at the infirmary.</p><p>“How do I feel about Winter?” I repeat, leaning my head to a side a little. With the fork, I gently spread the mashed potatoes over the plate to help them cool down a little. “She’s the most capable person I know - well, she’s my right hand for a reason.” I say. “Even before she entered the military, she has always proven herself to be an incredible fighter with a steel temper – I already told you how she managed to save not only her teammates’ lives, but mine. Not many times I have seen her fully lose his nerves – her <em>peculiar</em> cutting tone of voice is more than enough to always make herself hear – however, when she <em>does</em> lose her temper… you better not be in her way.” I shake my head and smile a little; then, I take a bite of the mashed potatoes – still hot, but they don’t burn my tongue. “I have a deep admiration for her. We’ve always worked well together, but I owe her a lot for how she’s been handing it all on her own lately. I… I really don’t know what I’d do without her.”</p><p>“That’s… not what I meant.”</p><p>“Hm? Then what do you…?” Her soft, resigned smile as she raises her sight from the plate makes me finally understand what she was <em>really</em> asking – the realization catches me off guard, and I raise an eyebrow. “<em>Oh</em>.”</p><p>I snort a soft laugh, amused.</p><p>“Is there any reason behind your sudden interest?”</p><p>“No… Yes… I mean… Your eyes light up every time you speak about her or talk to her. So, I was wondering…”</p><p>“You aren’t the first one to wonder the nature of Winter and I’s relationship.” I say, shaking my head. “It’s true that we have known each other for a long time, and we’ve spent a lot of time together. Every year we’ve passed working side by side has only made me cherish her company more and more. Her support through all these years is something I’ll always be thankful for, and I hope to make up for it someday.” I make a brief pause to take another bite. Now that the mashed potatoes are lukewarm I realize that they’re a bit bland, but Weiss doesn’t really like a lot of salt in her food, so I always make sure that I don’t add way too much. “You know… she’s not the best at opening up” I laugh softly, “But she’s had the patience to listen to my rant more than once, in private. Keeping the composure can be draining sometimes, especially in an environment as difficult as the military, and she has never complained, not even once.” I sigh with a smile. “I trust Winter with my life – and I say this not only as her superior, but as her friend.</p><p>» But friends is all we are, even though many don’t believe me when I tell them so – that’s what she is for me, at least. I want to believe she feels the same, but with Winter… nobody really knows. She could be planning to kill me and I wouldn’t even notice until her sword was piercing through my stomach.” I laugh again.</p><p>“I see.” She responds with a half-smile, and her shoulders relax a little. She looks… <em>way too</em> <em>relieved</em>.</p><p>It strikes, like lightning.</p><p>Is she...? Could she really be - <em>jealous</em>?</p><p>No. That wouldn't make sense.</p><p>
  <em>Would it?</em>
</p><p>The question nags at me as I frown, slightly, leaning my head to one side so I can look at her - try to divine it in her face. But no. Why would she be? There's no reason she should be. This is her sister, after all, and... and Weiss doesn't feel the same way I do. She couldn't.</p><p>
  <em>Could she...?</em>
</p><p>But I don't believe it. I can't. She couldn't. She wouldn't.</p><p><em>She shouldn't</em>.</p><p>Any pain I’ve felt before – and I’ve hurt with many kinds – is comparable to the oppressing, piercing guilt of knowing that I have somehow tricked her into believing that she’s in love with me – because I <em>must</em> have tricked her, for it wouldn’t really have any other explanation. Just when did I become so stupid and oblivious to allow it all to happen without realizing it? I only keep messing things up – it seems to have become part of my nature, at this point – but this is… this is way too much.</p><p>This is way too wrong.</p><p>“Do I have something in my face?” She asks, raising an eyebrow. Her teasing voice pierces my chest like a hook, pulls me down and drags me back to earth.</p><p>“Sorry.” I mumble, clearing my throat and lowering my sight to the table. I notice that she hasn’t tried the food yet. “Please, Weiss, eat something.” I ask, static. “You need to gather some strength for your Aura to replenish.”</p><p>“… Alright.” She finally agrees with a soft smile, and takes the first bite. Not many seconds after her cheeks turn to a pale rosy, and she adds: “It’s very good, James. Thank you.”</p><p>I simply nod my head.</p><p>Dinner passes in silence, and I barely touch my plate anymore. Remorse eats away my stomach; I couldn’t push down anything else.</p><p>“Aren’t you going to finish your food?”</p><p>“I’m… not hungry anymore.” I declare, holding back a sigh. “I’m sorry, Weiss. If you’ll excuse me…” I move as if to get up, but her voice prevents me from doing it.  </p><p>“Where are you going?”</p><p>“To my room.”</p><p>“…But you said you were going to show me your office tonight!” She pouts.</p><p>“Weiss…” I begin – it surprises me how my voice sounds even more tired than usual.</p><p>“Please, James.” She begs with a pleading look. “I was really looking forward to it.”</p><p>“…Okay.” I finally sigh, resigned.</p><p>Even though it’s true that I feel guilty, not even the greatest of my efforts could make me say no to those crystal, icy eyes.</p><p>------</p><p>I hadn’t been here in many days, since little by little I stopped doing paperwork to surrender the guilty pleasure of allowing myself to spend more time with Weiss. Her company was certainly more appealing than the vain attempt of keeping myself informed about everything happening at the military – it’s <em>too much</em>, and I couldn’t even take half of it in anyway. In an attempt to escape the guilt, I told myself I only allowed myself to do it so she wouldn't feel alone; and yet, even though that was true, I should have stopped the moment I suspected there was another reason behind it. I <em>do</em> regret it now, knowing that keeping each other company has fueled not only my feelings towards Weiss, but hers towards me also. I am determined, however, that the moment I step out from this room, I’ll make sure to keep my distance.</p><p><em>As much as it hurts</em>.</p><p>“Wow…”</p><p>Weiss’ amazed whisper escapes her parted lips as soon as she steps into the room. The soft shimmer of the afterglow comes through the picture window and illuminates the office with a pastel, pink color; its warm light reflects on every surface, creating an otherworldly illusion that, somehow, manages to soothe my aching heart just enough for me to be able to breathe.</p><p>Weiss takes her time to wander through the room – her eyes, gleaming in pure awe.</p><p>“Do you like it?” I ask, pleased – my barriers breaking into pieces once more at the sight of her porcelain skin enlightened by the violet flames of the burning sky and the soft glow of the blue LEDs distributed all over the office. Guilt seems to have given me a break, at least for the time being.</p><p>And I appreciate it.</p><p>“It’s… it’s wonderful, James.” Weiss ceases her slow pace at the center of the room, right over the glowing Atlas symbol, and raises her sight from the tens of constellations painted on the floor to look me in the eye. “I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it was definitely not this. Did you design it?”</p><p>“When I became headmaster of the Academy I had some changes made, yes – it mainly was the floor design, the ceiling constellations and the LED lights. It looked a lot like Jacques’ office before: there was a frieze covering the walls, but everything else was just… plain brown. Since I were to spend a lot of time here from then on, I wanted the office to be to my liking. I’m glad it’s to yours, too.”</p><p>“It is. You… You <em>definitely</em> have good taste.”</p><p>“You say it as if you were surprised.” I raise and eyebrow and smile softly. “Thank you, Weiss. There’s another surprise, too.” I add. “There is a button under my desk – would you go and press it?”</p><p>“You like buttons a lot, don’t you?” Weiss chuckles, and I return a genuine laughter. She turns around to approach the desk, but stops before the picture window to take a look. “Wow, James.” She says after a few seconds. “You weren’t lying about the view.”</p><p>“It won’t be long until night falls.” I respond. The violet sky is slowly fading into dark blue, carrying its fire away and little by little darkening the room – the blue LEDs seem to shine even brighter now. “I assure you it will be even better then.”</p><p>Weiss nods with a smile and finally approaches the desk to press the hidden button – when she does, a circular table emerges from the floor without a noise, right where she was standing just a few moments ago.</p><p>“A table.” She says. I can see her raised eyebrow from the other side of the room, and the disappointment in her voice sounds exactly the same as when we entered the training room and she asked if <em>it was all</em>.</p><p>“You’re quick to take things for granted.” I remark, amused. “Of course it’s not <em>just</em> a table. Come here.”</p><p>She hastens to make it to my side.</p><p>“The table’s surface is a touch screen.” I explain, pointing at it with a gesture of my hand. “If the center of the Atlas’ logo is touched, then…”</p><p>Weiss doesn’t wait to my petition this time – she simply goes and straight presses the logo. I always take delight in seeing how the amazement builds up in her face – her lips part with surprise, letting a muffled noise out and turning into a pleased smile not long after; and her eyes – oh, her eyes – they shine with the fire of a million shooting stars, reflecting the blue light of the City of Atlas’ hologram that now floats in the middle of the room just like the real one does right above the tundra, day after day.</p><p>“It surely wasn’t <em>just a table</em>.” She softly snorts.</p><p>“Indeed.” I look at her and nod with a smile. “We have a lot of 3D models saved in the military data base – they’re actually very useful to design new airships and weapons among other things, but there’s one in particular that I use the most. It… it really doesn’t have much to do with the military, though, but I like it. Whenever it’s stormy outside and the night sky can’t be seen behind the dark clouds, I’ll just…”</p><p>I touch the screen again, and the hologram of Atlas City disappears; in the blink of an eye a projection of the celestial vault surrounds us completely as if we were trapped under the sky, and I can hear Weiss’ loud gasp when hundreds of stars are mirrored in her eyes. She turns over herself to admire it – her lips, parted in surprise. She raises her hand, hesitant, to touch the simulation, but the light escapes through her fingers as they move through one of the constellations.</p><p>“This is beautiful, James.” She murmurs. “Do you know all their names?”</p><p>“I do.” I declare.</p><p>“I don’t believe you.” Weiss responds with an amused snort, and looks away from me to run her eyes over the hologram; a few seconds later, she points at one of the constellations, and asks: “How is this one called?”</p><p>“Lux Draco.”</p><p>“And that one?”</p><p>“The Tower.”</p><p>“You could be making up their names.”</p><p>“I could.” I concede. “I guess it’s up to you to believe me or not. Or – you could check one of my many astronomy books to verify it; they’re over there, in one of the shelves.”</p><p>Weiss dismisses it with a gesture of her hand.</p><p>“<em>Or</em> – I could check it on my scroll.” Weiss picks it up from one of her pockets, and it doesn’t take long for her to sink her eyes into the screen, fully focused. I laugh softly and shake my head a little. After a few seconds of searching, she finally admits: “Okay, you weren’t lying. But now, James, I have a question for you… Which one is The Crown?”</p><p>“Is this a test?” I ask mockingly, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“Hush, and answer me!” She demands.</p><p>“It’s that one.” I sigh, amused, pointing at one of the constellations in front of us.</p><p>“It says here that you’re right. But it doesn’t look like a crown.” She frowns.</p><p>“I know.” I snort a hushed laugh. “You have to imagine it. Constellations are… kind of abstract, I suppose.”</p><p>“I can see that.” She replies, rolling her eyes. “Okay, James, last question. Which one is… The Snowflake?”</p><p>I lean my head to a side, smiling softly, and I know it’s the absolute truth when I declare: “That one doesn’t exist.”</p><p>“Alright.” She finally concedes. “You passed the test.”</p><p>All I do in response is let out a hushed laugh.</p><p>Under the glow of the holographic hemisphere, I hadn’t realized that every remaining trace of sunlight is gone now.</p><p>“Well, it’s dark already. I think it’s time.” I say. A touch on the screen and the hologram is gone – the office, previously enlightened by dying fire, now swims in the shifting dark blue and black shadows casted by the night sky. I turn my sight to Weiss – she looks completely astonished. Before I can say anything, she hastens to approach the window – her silhouette cuts against the shattered moon, framed like a picture frozen in time. Slowly, trying to not startle her – for she seems to be completely blown away by the view – I make it to her side.</p><p>Beneath our feet, Atlas’ night life bustles – an spectacle of moving car lights, illuminated advertisement panels and a general cyan glow that comes from its busy streets; far beyond, the barrier that prevents the city population from falling off the edge; and even further, the silent, immeasurable snowed tundra that extends as far as our eyes can reach. The entirety of Atlas can be seen from up here; however, it’s not the city that buzzes below us what takes my breath away – neither is the sky lays above us.</p><p>It’s her.</p><p>It’s always her.</p><p>
  <em>What are you doing, James?</em>
</p><p>“I’ve never seen anything like this.” She finally murmurs, leaning forward until her forehead touches the window– her breath mists the glass around her lips as she speaks. “Not even the sight from the airship is comparable. I understand why you used to spend so much time here. You really like the sky, don’t you?”</p><p>“I do.” I admit with a smile. “Nights were always peaceful and quiet, at least until all the students left the Academy. They became oppressive and awfully lonely, then. But not anymore.” I say, and I look at her with a smile.</p><p>
  <em>James, stop.</em>
</p><p>“Besides, I think that… I think that just seeing how the sky colors change acts like a reminder, for me – a reminder that no matter what happens, no matter how stuck we think we are, the world keeps spinning, and there will always be another day, another chance to try again – to be better. It… somehow soothes me.”</p><p>
  <em>Yes, James. There will always be another day for you to mess things up.</em>
</p><p>“I understand.” She replies with soft voice.</p><p>We stay like this for a while, just looking out of the window – Weiss, me, and the voice at the back of my head, whispering things that I don’t want to hear. When it comes insufferably loud, I try to drown it with my own voice.</p><p>“By the way, Weiss, did you know that your cape is actually pretty accurate to the celestial vault? I have noticed. Whoever sewed the constellations did a more than decent research job.”</p><p>“Really?” She asks with interest, turning his sight to look at me.</p><p>“Yes.” I respond. “Look. There’s The Lux Draco.” I say, pointing at one of the cluster of stars. “And there’s the…”</p><p>“The Crown.” Weiss replies with a smile, and I do the same. “And your tie?”</p><p>“Well, my tie is not that accurate. It’s a much smaller amount of fabric, so they only sewed a few of them.”</p><p>“Can I see?”</p><p>“Of course.” I say. I make as if to untie it, but before I can do it, Weiss stands on tiptoe to grab the tie gently and pull it out of the jacket uniform – as my heartrate fastens at the speed of light and deafens me, she keeps pulling down, making me bend down until the fabric is at her eye level. She’s close – she’s <em>very</em> close, and her body, her hands, her lips are calling me, pulling me like a magnet – and oh, Gods, I’m made of metal and flesh and the craving is too powerful to tear me apart once more, but I have to resist – I must, for I have sworn to myself that I will keep my distance, and that is a promise that I shall not break.</p><p>But Weiss’ muffled voice finds its way through the storm anyway.</p><p>“The Tower.” She murmurs.</p><p>“<em>Wei…?</em>”</p><p>And all my inner self is shaken when she pulls down one last time and presses her lips against mine.</p><p>A lightning bolt comes from the very center of my core and explodes like a supernova; it runs down my spine and spreads through body and soul, making my knees and hands tremble and leaving me as defenseless, as weak and exposed as I’ve ever been. It’s sweet, and soft, and caring – all of the things that suture my aching, bleeding heart, that’s trying its best to beat harder than ever to remind me that I, despite everything, am still human.</p><p>And it hurts like hell knowing that I, like always, have to let the steel win once more.</p><p>Weiss’ pupils are gleaming when we separate, and her smile is the most beautiful that has ever lit up her face. There’s nothing I want to do more than to kiss her again, to hold her in my arms; however, it’s the metal that speaks when I, five centimeters away from her lips, murmur:</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>There’s a question in her eyes, and it is one that I cannot answer.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” I repeat – my voice chokes as the lump in my throat tightens. I turn around to leave, but Weiss’ grabs my hand – I try to apologize again, but my none of my drowned words manage to leave my lips. I <em>can’t</em> stay, so, with a gentle pull and twist of my wrist -</p><p>I’m the one to let go.</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry.</em>
</p><p>Empty hallways</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry.</em>
</p><p>Empty room</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry.</em>
</p><p>Empty chest</p><p>
  <em>See, James? There’s always another chance for you to fuck everything up.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NGQfFCFUn4</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The storm - Weiss' POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…James?”</p><p>My voice, tiny as a whisper, gets lost in the immensity of the empty office. The moon reflects on the polished floor and shelved walls, enlightening the room with a faint, pale white light that, even though it seemed magical before, feels different this time – almost ghostly, now that I’m all alone <em>yet once again</em>.</p><p>
  <em>What the hell just happened?</em>
</p><p>I blink, twice. The door remains half open, for James didn’t close it when he left at the speed of light – his lips, muttering something that I have heard him say hundreds of times:</p><p>
  <em>“I’m sorry.” </em>
</p><p>He sounded… defeated.</p><p>I sigh, deeply, and I rub my eyes until they hurt and I all I see in the middle of the darkness are twinkling lights. I feel dizzy, and I don’t understand anything at all. What exactly is he sorry for? It’s not his fault that I kissed him – it’s nobody’s, because it wasn’t even a mistake. Not for me, at least. I just… It’s been months, and I couldn’t keep going without him knowing how I feel. This fire in my chest, in my skin, in my bones – it’s been raging for so long that I was going to burn down to ashes if I didn’t do something, and I was sure – I really, <em>really</em> was – that he felt the same way.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe I was wrong…?</em>
</p><p>But – it can’t be. Earlier today, at the infirmary, when he brushed my blood away from my lips, I thought – I thought he was going to kiss me. His voice, whispering my name – the soft touch of his fingertips – gentle, and caring, and doubtful… He was shaking, and so was I.</p><p>But – he did nothing. He just apologized and left, leaving me trembling, burning, and alone.</p><p>Just like I am now.</p><p>I can feel something in my chest – something that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but still there – a shadow of dismay, of concern, of doubt – a fear of not being loved back. I quickly push the thought away from my mind. I’ve seen his eyes and I know them well, for they are a reflection of mine: shattered, reforged, and craving for love; and his irises, always honest, I can read like an open book.</p><p>I know him.</p><p>I know him.</p><p>I know him.</p><p>
  <em>Do I?</em>
</p><p>I sigh again, heavier this time, and turn my head just enough to look out the window from the corner of my eye. Atlas is buzzing, changing, moving – a very different view to the one I was used to see when I was staying at the Schnee manor, for its patio was always empty and silent. My bare palm rests upon the cold glass, and soon enough, vapor condensates and gathers around my fingers, perfectly outlining the shape of my hand. It must be freezing outside. I stay still for a while, with the only sound of my chest going up and down with every breath I take. I look at the stars, searching for the new constellations of whose existence I have learnt about tonight, but I can’t find them in the vast of the firmament. I like it up here – it’s quiet and calm, but it feels really lonely without company – without <em>James’</em> company.</p><p>I… should probably go talk to him.</p><p>A third sigh, full of doubts this time, and I turn around to leave the office. My wandering through the empty hallways lasts for what seems an eternity, but I finally make it to James’ room – the door, twice as wide as any other, has a little plaque with his name engraved on it. My heart skips a beat, anxious at the thought of seeing his face again, of looking him in the eye – what if all I see in them are ghosts and regret? Would I be able to bear it? I shake my head to push the intrusive thoughts away, take some seconds to gather as much courage as I can, and knock.</p><p>No response.</p><p>“James?” I ask to a closed door. “Are you okay…?”</p><p>Still no response.                                </p><p>“Could we… talk?” My voice breaks halfway through, but I manage to finish the sentence; however, the only answer I receive is a loud and overwhelming silence. Maybe… maybe he has fallen asleep? Yes, that must be it. Because after everything that happened today, he wouldn’t just let all of it go without talking it through, would he?</p><p><em>No, of course not</em>. We will speak tomorrow morning, right after…</p><p>Oh, god.</p><p>I had forgotten that I’m supposed to train with Winter tomorrow.</p><p>Resigned, I leave his room behind, completely unaware that, at the other side of the door, James’ heart and soul are bleeding out.</p><p>I hadn’t heard the sound of my own walking resonating all over the empty hallways in a long time, for its echo was always intertwined with his; I do, now, and it feels strange – almost foreign, as if my own steps weren’t mine at all. When I finally make it to my dorm I flop onto the bed, exhausted, and I let myself sink into the shifting night shadows casted on the ceiling. Before closing my eyes and surrendering to sleep, one single thought crosses my mind: “<em>I just hope he’s alright</em>.” And I, oblivious of what is to come and wandering the limbo between dreams and waking, don’t notice how the shadow in the back of my chest darkens just a little.</p><p> </p><p>--------</p><p> </p><p>It’s still dark outside when I walk down the main hallway with the intention of making a brief stop at the cafeteria. Even though it’s very early and I’m not really hungry, I think it’s better if I eat something before meeting with Winter, mostly because I don’t have much of an interest in making it through another of her reprimands in case my stomach starts to growl fifteen minutes into the training session. I don’t really have time to make myself some tea, so I guess I’ll just pour myself a glass of milk with a couple of cookies; however, when I enter the cafeteria, I spot a steaming cup of tea and two little muffins waiting for me over one of the tables. The aroma of freshly made coffee is still present – James isn’t here, but he must have been not much more than ten minutes ago. I smile, and the knot in my chest that had been waking me time and time again last night loosens a little. He can’t be angry at me if he has bothered to serve me breakfast, right?</p><p>
  <em>Right?</em>
</p><p>A little more relieved, I make it to the table and sit on the bench. I never, ever do this – it’s gross and I hate it – but I don’t want to be late, so I just gobble down my breakfast as fast as I can, silently thankful that nobody’s around to watch me do it. James made the muffins a couple of days ago, but they are still truly delicious – the subtle sourness of the blueberries that he carefully minced and added to the muffins is the perfect contrast to the sweetness of the sugar. When I’m done, the first rays of sunlight are filtering through the cafeteria windows - I head to the training room at a rapid pace, and I come in just in time to see James disappearing up the stairs. Winter is just standing in the middle of the empty room – no artificial cubes, no simulations this time –, frowning at me.</p><p>“Good morning, Win…”</p><p>“You’re late.” She grunts. “And you have muffin crumbs on your lips.” She adds with a hiss once I get to her side.</p><p><em>Oops</em>.</p><p>“Sorry.” I say, brushing the crumbs away with my fingertips. “I overslept a little.”</p><p>“Are you rested enough to train?” She asks, and her frown deepens even more.</p><p>“Yes, Winter.” I respond.</p><p>I think so, at least.</p><p>She stares at me with critical eye for a few seconds, as if she was trying to divine the truth in my words. Whenever she does that, it almost feels like she could see right through me – I hold back a shiver, thinking about what she would do if she found out what happened last night between James and me. I know her, and I know she would be mad – no, <em>mad</em> falls short. She would be <em>furious</em>.</p><p>But as far as I know she still can’t read minds, so… I guess we’re fine.</p><p>“Alright.” She sighs once she’s convinced. “I have a matter to discuss with the General once we’re done here, so it’s better if we don’t waste more time.”</p><p>“Oh? What is it about?”</p><p>“Classified.”</p><p>
  <em>Of course it is.</em>
</p><p>“Besides, since when are you interested in the military?” Winter asks, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.</p><p>“I mean… I’m living with the <em>head</em> of the military.” I shrug.</p><p>“Right.” Winter rolls her eyes in dismiss, and with a gesture of her arm she points at Myrtenaster. “Let’s begin.”</p><p>I nod and draw my rapier. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot James’ silhouette at the upper lookout. My heartbeat fastens a little at the thought that he will be watching us – watching me fail as I try to summon, because I know for sure that I still can’t do it <em>on purpose</em>. The Boarbatusk I managed to invoke at the concert was accidental, just like the summon at the Battle of Beacon, when I put myself between Velvet and one of Atlas’ mad robots – one armored hand with a giant sword appeared out of nowhere and stopped its blow. I still don’t know what that was. It didn’t look like a Grimm, but, weirdly, it had a certain resemblance to… the Arma Gigas. When I was locked away at the Schnee Manor I tried to summon it several times, but to no avail – not even its arm showed up again.</p><p>And I don’t think it will this time, either.</p><p>I kneel down and stick the blade into the ground; then, I close my eyes. I feel the weight of Winter’s eyes casted over me, and it almost makes my shoulders bend under the pressure. Her pupils have always been heavy and cold – not in the “<em>I don’t love you</em>” way, but more in the “<em>I expect great things from you, so you better not disappoint me</em>” way. It takes a deep, long breath to push my thoughts away and empty my mind, leaving enough room for me to concentrate. <em>There’s nothing here</em>. <em>There’s nobody around</em>. There’s only Myrtenaster’s handle; my hands around it; and my summoning semblance, still hidden deep inside me, still waiting for me to master it. I know it’s there, somewhere – it’s in my blood and in the glyphs that I cast, in the pride of the family that once was more than what it has become. My semblance is one of a kind, and I will do it justice – not for the Schnee name, but for myself.</p><p>I just have to find the way through.</p><p>I don't know how long I have my eyes closed for, but it's a while. “Focus, Weiss.” Winter’s voice sounds like a distant prayer that echoes in the back of my head, waiting. I follow its luminous sound – it enlightens the darkness of my closed eyes with a faint gleam and leads the way through. After chasing her voice for some time, I feel a tingling sensation in my fingertips, and it makes me exhale a loud gasp – this is new. “Keep your posture.” She commands. As the light in my head becomes brighter, the tingling turns into a stream – it flows through my hands and into the blade, as if it was an extension of my own body and soul. Soon, the brilliance is such that I can’t keep my eyes closed anymore – I open them, only to be blinded again by the giant, white glowing helmet that has appeared before me. I blink twice, astonished.</p><p>“Wh…” I babble.</p><p>“Very well done.” Winter nods in approval, and takes a couple of steps forward to examine the helmet. “It’s a curious summon, indeed. It doesn’t look like any Grimm I’ve seen before. Do you know what it is?”</p><p>“No. I… I really didn’t think I could do that.” I admit.</p><p>“Nonsense.” She dismisses. “<em>Of course</em> you can. It’s in your blood, after all.” She draws her sword and softly hits the helmet’s surface with a low clank. It’s a weak summon, so it vanishes quickly – but it’s a summon after all, and it’s definitely much more than what I was expecting, mostly because I wasn’t expecting anything at all. “You just have to practice.” Winter declares.</p><p>I smile, pleased by my achievement, and I admire how the shiny particles drift into the air, reflecting the blue light that comes from the walls – before the last glowing fragment disappears, it quickly crosses my mind that the helmet looked, indeed, like the Arma Gigas’.</p><p><em>Hm</em>.</p><p>Winter bends slightly and offers me a hand to help me get up – with a gentle tug of her arm, I’m standing face to face to her. “You’ve grown a lot, Weiss.” She says, looking me in the eye. Her pupils are a little softer than what I am used to, and her voice – it’s subtle, but I still can sense it – sounds, somehow… <em>moved</em>. “But don’t get confident – there’s still a long way to go. You have great potential, but you will waste it if you don’t keep training, so <em>don’t</em> – <em>laze</em> – <em>around</em>.” She hisses – each dragged word, a tap on my shoulder with her index finger. “I’m looking forward to finding out what your summon was.”</p><p>Okay. Now this looks more like Winter I know.</p><p>“I will.” I declare. “Thank you, Winter.” I say, leaning my head a bit. “For everything. Will you come back soon?”</p><p>I never really realize how much I miss her until I see her again.</p><p>“I’ll try. Things are getting… busier at the military. But it’s –”</p><p>“<em>Classified</em>. I know.”</p><p>Winter nods.</p><p>“Well, I have to go speak to the General. Until next time, Weiss.”</p><p>“Goodbye, Winter.”</p><p>It’s only when she turns and disappears at the back of the room that I dare to look up again. James’ shape, still in the middle of the lookout, hasn’t moved a bit. I can’t see his face from down here, but I hope that he’s glad of what I’ve accomplished, especially since he knows that summons aren’t my strongest point – <em>yet</em>. Soon, Winter’s silhouette joins to his, and they disappear from my sight. I really, <em>really</em> can’t wait to talk to him about last night, but I guess I’ll have to kill time until their conversation is over. And, honestly? I could use a nap. I didn’t sleep more than two hours straight last night, and all that aura flowing through me and into Myrtenaster’s blade and the excitement of having finally been able to summon something at my own will – even if it’s <em>just a helmet</em> – have left me drained.</p><p>Resolved and fulfilled, I head to my room – the soft mattress cradles me as if I was laying on a cloud, and my weariness is such that it doesn’t take long until I fall asleep. In one of my dreams, I meet him again – his soothing voice, whispering my name; the soft brush of his human fingertips on my skin, tracing the shape of my scar and running down to my parted lips. I shiver under his touch when he places his index finger under my chin, making me look up and into his eyes.</p><p>And… he kisses me.</p><p>I wake up all of a sudden, with my heart rapidly pouncing in my chest. I look around, confused, but there’s nobody else in this room besides me, and I curse a “<em>Drat</em>” under my breath before snorting a soft laugh. It seems that even one imaginary kiss from James has the power to make me stupidly dizzy. <em>But god, it felt so real</em>. I decide to step into the shower now, since I didn’t have the time this morning – under the steaming water, my drowsiness slowly fades away. Not long after, I leave my room again, wondering if Winter and James’ meeting is already over – the training room is empty when I enter, and the lights from the upper room are all off.</p><p>Okay. Where might he be?</p><p>Thinking about what I’ll say to him when I find him, I start my wandering through the Academy. Since it’s the most likely option I decide to begin with his office, but when I try to enter, I realize that the door is locked. Just like I did last night, I continue my pace and head to his room, but, again, there’s only silence when I knock on its surface. I frown, slightly annoyed. Where the hell did he go? It’s unlikely that he’s there, since all the books I’ve seen him read he took from his office, but I decide to check the Academy library anyway – it’s empty, too. I make my way down the stairs checking every floor.</p><p>“James?”</p><p>But he’s nowhere to be seen. Maybe he accompanied Winter to the military?</p><p>Frowning, I step into the main hallway – a delicious smell is filling the air. I sigh, deeply.</p><p>
  <em>Of course he’s cooking.</em>
</p><p>At a rapid pace, and happy to have finally found him, I enter the cafeteria – it’s empty, and so is the kitchen; but lunch for one is in a pot over the stoves, still warm and ready to be served, and the dishes on the draining rack are still dripping.</p><p>
  <em>Did he really have lunch without me?</em>
</p><p>I sigh again, resigned, and I serve myself a plate.</p><p>The same scene repeats at dinnertime, and so does the next day, and the day after that. Soon, almost week has passed when there’s always food for one ready, but James remains missing. Not a note under the doorstep; not a scroll text; not even a knock on my bedroom door to inform that he’s leaving – although I doubt he goes out at all, anyway. It has become clear that he doesn’t want to speak to me – his reasons for such decision, I ignore them. I don’t dare text him either, for I fear whatever it is that I might find in his eyes. The shadow at the back of my chest grows with each passing day, but I try to ignore it by spending as much time in the training room as I can. It helps, somehow, and at least it’s beginning to bear fruit – on the fourth day of his absence, I managed to summon a sword – the same I casted at the Battle of Beacon, but smaller; and on the sixth, the sword already reached two meters in height.</p><p>The seventh day of waiting, the lump in my throat becomes so unbearably asphyxiating that I decide that it’s been enough, that I have to face him once and for all. I fear for the outcome of the conversation, but I’m drowning in doubts and questions and I <em>refuse</em> to go on like this. I leave the training room and step into the cafeteria an hour before lunch, and I wait.</p><p>It doesn’t take long for him to appear over the doorway, but he suddenly stops in his tracks when he realizes that I, too, am here. I stare at him in silence, and he does the same. He looks… troubled. He’s letting his stubble grow again, and I’ve noticed how he hid his hands behind his back the moment he noticed he was not alone. He doesn’t say a word – instead, he resumes his pace, completely ignoring my presence and heading to the kitchen door. Every step he takes, a crack that grows in my heart. I follow him with my eyes, and when he walks behind me, I finally gather the courage to part my lips, and with a hushed voice, muffled by my own worries, I murmur:</p><p>“James?”</p><p>He freezes in place. His own words, cold and hard like metal when he turns around, looks me in the eye with dead and clouded pupils, and says:</p><p>“Miss Schnee.”</p><p>Thoughtlessly, I get up and run away from his presence.</p><p>
  <em>I hate him.</em>
</p><p>Lonely hallways</p><p>
  <em>I hate him.</em>
</p><p>Lonely room</p><p>
  <em>I hate him.</em>
</p><p>Lonely chest</p><p>Those two words, spoken with such indifference, with such apathy, as if I was an stranger whose presence he doesn’t care about – it feels like his metal arm had sent a blow through my stomach that broke all my ribs. Their shattered fragments pierce into my lungs, into my flesh, into my heart, and tear everything apart – I’m bleeding, I’m bleeding and I can’t breathe, and I choke with blood that isn’t there, I choke with all the loving words that I was keeping for him – they die, forever unspoken, and gather deep inside my throat. <em>Did he ever care about me?</em> The storm, visceral and sudden, makes me forget everything I learned throughout these months about the tints in his voice, and I, spinning in the middle of a hurricane, remain oblivious to the sadness that was hidden deep below the steel. I fall to my knees and stick the rapier into the ground, holding onto its handle like it was the world’s last bastion – defeated, I place my forehead on my trembling hands, and I cry. I cry, and I sob, and my tears are rivers, and I don’t know how to stop them – they crash into my fingers and slide down my skin, down the metal, down the blade – its surface turns whiter and whiter the wilder the storm rages. It takes a while, but little by little, my breathing seems to calm down. When the tempest is over and I open my eyes again –</p><p>There’s a giant glowing armor kneeling before me.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The handprint - Ironwood's POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s only when the last line of the sunset disappears and my office is bathed by the moonlight that I finally lean back on my chair and rub my weary eyes. I put the report I’ve just checked on top of the others and I exhale a long sigh, but not a hint of my tiredness seems to leave with it.</p><p>When Winter came to speak to me in the training rooms’ upper lookout, she told me that a rumor was reported to the military the previous night – a rumor that there were people in Mistral who were mobilizing and trafficking Dust. Since it was me who gave the order to ban Dust exportation precisely in order to prevent any possible rebellion against Atlas, she wanted to notify me that she had sent a camouflaged patrol to Mistral to do some research. The last week and a half she has been addressing me their reports twice a day to keep me informed; and at least, it has been keeping my thoughts away from…</p><p>I sigh again, deeper this time.</p><p><em>No</em>. It hasn’t been keeping my thoughts away from Weiss at all. Not even when I get into bed – my mind keeps spinning around her, and there’s no way for her blue eyes to fade away when I close mine. I sleep around four hours a night, and that’s when I get lucky enough. I miss her voice, and her quirks, and the way she tilts her head when I, buried in one of my many astronomy books, mumble something under my breath. The wounds in my heart, those that she sutured with her very hands, open and bleed every time I hear the echo of her footsteps leading to the training room, where she has been spending most of her time lately – they sound so close, yet so far away. And every day, hesitation eats me whole – the urge to go and just kiss her again is strong, but I always force myself to hold back. Making her believe that she’s in love with me is yet another mistake that has joined the giant mountain of regrets crawling on my back – their weight is heavy, and it doesn’t matter how much I try to keep myself distracted, for the guilt never, ever fades.</p><p>I turn my chair towards the window – the sky is clear tonight, and the phase the moon is in makes it look like it was never shattered, but I know that the fragments are still there, hidden behind its façade. Perfectly round, whole, and intact, its pale light filters through the panes and makes me realize that there’s something on its polished surface that I hadn’t noticed before: one single handprint. I frown, intrigued, and I get up from the chair to approach the window. I wear gloves most of the time, so it’s not mine – its shape is way too small to have been made by my hand anyway. It’s been a long time since I’ve received any visits – I’ve been absent from the military for a couple of months now and the Academy remains empty –, and none of them but Winter ever get past my desk, but she hasn’t been here lately either. The last time someone besides me was here was a week and a half ago, so it can only be…</p><p><em>Weiss’</em>.</p><p>It hits me, now: her handprint, small and lonely and silhouetted against the vastness of the sky, makes me realize how much of a stupid and ignorant man I’ve been – how selfish, for only I made the decision of keeping our distance without even taking her own feelings into account; and Gods, she must be feeling as lonely as I do. What the hell have I been doing? I promised her that as long as she was here, in the Academy, she would never feel alone again; but in that, too, I’ve failed her. I was so convinced that it would be the best for her, that my absence would make her realize she's not really in love with me… But I completely disregarded the fact that, even though I’m the leader of the military and it’s my duty to make difficult decisions for the greater good, I am <em>not</em> entitled to make Weiss’ decisions for her, and I will <em>never</em> be – nobody will, for that belongs only to her.</p><p>I take off my left glove and put it in my pocket; then, I carefully place my human hand over Weiss’ handprint – the glass feels cold against my skin, but I wait, just watching how vapor condensates around it. When I finally draw my hand away, the sight of both our handprints together – hers, so small and delicate; and mine, so big and clumsy in comparison – makes me smile, and it somehow feels like a little stich on my aching heart.</p><p>I just hope it’s not too late to talk things through.</p><p> </p><p>------------</p><p> </p><p>My hand hesitates, oscillating in front of the button that opens the training room – it takes me a couple of deep breaths to finally gain enough composure to press it, and when I finally do it, the sight inside leaves me stuck in place.</p><p>In the middle of the empty room, Weiss is kneeling – her cloak, falling over her shoulders like a waterfall made of stars. There’s no moon around to enlighten her; no spotlights; yet she’s still gleaming. Right in front of her, a giant knight-like summon carrying a sword twice my height is mirroring her, and I notice that its helmet looks exactly the same as the one she summoned when Winter came to train with her. I didn’t recognize it back then, but now that I see it in all its splendor, I do: it’s Nicholas Schnee’s armor. Both their heads are lowered and looking at the floor, so none of them notice my presence as I approach them carefully, trying not to break Weiss’ focus. When there’s only a couple of meters between us, I discreetly clear my throat.</p><p>“It seems that your training has yielded results.” I say.</p><p>Weiss’ shoulders shake in surprise, and she gets up all of a sudden – so does the armor, and its height is even more impressive now that it’s standing. Weiss turns around slowly, and her pupils burn with icy fury when she looks me in the eye, almost making me shiver. She’s grabbing her rapier’s handle so tightly that her knuckles are turning white.</p><p>“What do you want?” She hisses, with anger oozing from every single one of her words.</p><p>I sigh deeply and I shake my head, resigned.</p><p>I deserve it<em>. </em></p><p>“I…” I make as if to take a step towards her, but the knight moves faster. In a blink of an eye, its glowing arm surrounds her, acting as a barrier between her and me, and I stay in place.</p><p>“<em>Don’t you dare</em> step any closer.” She warns.</p><p>“Weiss…” I murmur with a sigh.</p><p>“Oh, you remember my name now?” She says – her freezing voice, filled with sarcasm and bitterness. “How <em>sweet</em> of you.” Her frown deepens as she presses her lips together.</p><p>“I owe you an apology.”</p><p>“Yes, <em>General</em>,” the way she drags that word feels like a bullet shot straight into my heart, “you do. But I don’t want your apologies. I want an explanation.”</p><p>“I didn’t want to hurt you, Weiss.”</p><p>“Well. Turns out that running away from somebody after they’ve kissed you and keeping clear of them for a week is actually a <em>very efficient</em> way to hurt people.”</p><p>She’s absolutely right.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” I say, lowering my sight.</p><p>She snorts a resentful laugh and shakes her head.</p><p>“I said that I don’t want your apologies.” She hisses, squinting her eyes. “Just… Just tell me <em>why</em>. Why the hell have you been ignoring me all these days? There <em>has</em> to be a reason. If you didn’t feel the same, you could just have said so, you know?”</p><p>“It’s not that.” I hurry to clarify. “Weiss, I…” I take a deep breath and close my eyes, searching for the right words. “I tricked you.” I finally admit. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how it happened, but I think that somehow… I tricked you into believing that you’re in love with me. So, I decided to…”</p><p>“Wait. Wait, wait.” She shakes her head, confused. “You think you did what?”</p><p>“I trick–”</p><p>“Yes, I <em>heard</em> you.” She says, making a gesture with her arm; then, she rubs her head temples with her fingertips. “Let me get this straight. So… this is why you left in a hurry, babbling apologies?” She asks. “Because you think… that <em>somehow</em>… you’ve made me believe that I’m in love with you?”</p><p>“Yes.” I nod. “That’s why I’ve been avoiding you. I thought that if I kept my distance, you…”</p><p>“My feelings towards you would <em>magically</em> disappear.” Weiss raises an eyebrow.</p><p>The way she says it makes it sound <em>really</em> ludicrous.</p><p>“Yes.” I sigh.</p><p>“<em>God</em>, James.” She snorts my name. I don’t know if she’s mocking me, but at least it doesn’t feel as bad as when she called me <em>General</em>. “Do you really think I’m <em>that stupid</em>? I’m well aware of my own feelings, and I can assure you that it wasn’t you who put them there. You didn’t deceive me in any way. I’m not that naïve.”</p><p>She exhales a deep breath and draws her hand away from her rapier.</p><p>“So… what made you change your mind?” She asks. “Why are you here now?”</p><p>“I… I saw your handprint.” I murmur.</p><p>“My handprint?” She frowns, confused, and she crosses her arms.</p><p>“Yes.” I say. “On my office’s window. It reminded me that when you came here, I told you that it wouldn’t be okay if you felt lonely here, too. But… Well, I <em>did</em> leave you alone. I didn’t ask you how you would like to handle… everything that happened. I just made the decision myself. And that wasn’t fair. So… I’ve come to ask you what do you want to do.”</p><p>The giant armor slowly withdraws its arm from around her, and takes a step back.</p><p>“You tell me, first.” She says.</p><p>It doesn’t take me more than a second to give her an answer.</p><p>“I’d like to go back to how we were.” I admit with a sad smile.</p><p>“Do you consider the kiss to be a mistake?” She asks. The question takes me by surprise, and I slightly tilt my head to a side.</p><p>“I…” I mumble. <em>How do I say it?</em> “People would talk, Weiss. About us.” I sigh. “And, after what happened at the Schnee Manor–”</p><p>“I’m not asking about the rest.” She says – a brief irised gleam crosses her eyes. “I’m way past giving a damn about what other people think of me, if you still hadn’t noticed – and even though I kissed you, it doesn’t mean that everyone in Atlas knows about it all of a sudden. I’m asking <em>you</em>, James. Do <em>you</em> consider it a mistake?”</p><p>I remain silent for a few seconds. How could I – how could <em>anyone</em> ever consider kissing her to be a mistake?</p><p>“No.” I declare.</p><p>“Then I don’t want to go back to how we <em>were</em>.” She murmurs.</p><p>Wait. <em>Is she implying…</em>?</p><p>She looks at me again, and every trace of resentment seems to have vanished from her eyes; they shine as bright as a clear summer night. And she’s just… smiling. Very softly. I feel it again, as I did in my office – the pull, as if her own body was a magnet; as if all of her was calling my name… And this time, I let it drag me, for I have decided that every sleepless night I’ve spent regretting my mistakes, every second I’ve wasted just wondering if, in another life, things could have been different – they are all worth it, just as long as I can kiss her one more time. My body moves on its own, and when I finally make it to her side, I carefully place my bare human hand on her cheek – her skin, soft as a cloud, blooms red underneath my fingers.</p><p>“<em>I’m sorry.</em>”</p><p>I am barely aware of the knight vanishing into a million silver fragments, raining above us, because when our lips meet, all I can truly think of is the sweet taste of her kiss.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The blaze - Weiss' POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It feels very different, this time. His skin upon my cheek, warm and caring; his right hand on my waist, as gentle as the brush of a butterfly wing; the way he’s short of breath in that brief instant our lips part for air… The fact that he gained enough courage to leave his ghosts behind and just come and speak to me; the fact that he’s here, and he apologized, and he explained everything and it all made sense; the fact that it’s been him the one to take the initiative now, and he’s kissing me – god, he is kissing me… All of it makes me certain that he’s not going to run away again, and I can’t do anything but promise him with soundless words, hidden in every one of my heartbeats – promise him that I, too, am staying.</p><p>I think his lips are burning, but it might be mine on fire. My knees tremble, and I think I’m melting in our blaze and I will fall to the floor and burst into ashes if he <em>ever</em> stops holding me. He must sense it, too, because his left hand leaves my cheek to circle my waist, but his lips don’t leave mine at all – not even when he carefully lifts me off the floor. I, suspended in the air but still anchored to his breath, to his hands, unconsciously wrap my legs around him to pull him closer and claim his body as my anchor. The day we trained together, in this very same room, he asked me if I missed my home. I didn't give him a straight answer, mostly because I didn't really know... But I think I do, now. I don't miss my home, because home is where I am right now.</p><p>His wooden fragrance is making me slowly lose my mind – he’s as close as he can be, but god – every inch of my skin is screaming that I need him even closer.</p><p>“James…” I pant, short of breath. I feel a wave of heat growing in my chest and running down my stomach, down my waist, down my legs, “can we… go to your quarters?”</p><p>He separates from me just enough to look me in the eye.</p><p>“Weiss – I…” And in his voice, I sense it again – a shadow of concern, concern for me. It is true that I might have been a damsel in distress when I was locked away in the manor, but I’m not anymore. My chains are broken and I will claim what I want, and what I want is the man who helped me shatter them – the man whose breaths I’m drinking as if they were the only water spring that can put the fire away.</p><p>But it only makes the flames burn wilder.</p><p>“Please.” I beg against his lips, drowning his words away – my plea, a whisper halfway between a whimper and a moan. I feel my own heartbeat in places I didn’t even know I could, and I want – I need his to join mine. The embrace of my legs around his torso gets tighter. “Please, James. I want you.”</p><p>He doesn’t say a word, but he exhales a sigh that gets lost in our kiss before heading out of the training room, and I smile, knowing that I finally got my way. He carries me through the hallways, and this time the only sound that echoes on its walls isn’t our steps, but the sound of our heavy, intertwined breaths. Our kiss gets deeper and harsher, getting us so drunk with each other that it’s difficult for him to walk straight without letting go; so he accidentally makes us hit the wall twice in our way to the elevators.</p><p>“We might – we <em>might</em> have a problem, Weiss –” He huffs after the door of one of the elevators closes behind us – my back against the mirror, and his body pressing on mine. He might as well undress me right here and I would thank him, because I am so freaking hot that all my clothes feel like a burden.</p><p>“Hush.” I demand, placing my index finger over his parted lips – he looks so cute with both his eyebrows slightly raised in surprise. I let my right hand wander freely through his hair, and I grab a lock and pull gently, leaving his neck exposed. He gulps with effort, and I smirk and bite my lower lip before leaning over him and kissing his bare skin – very gently at first, like the brush of a daisy – it makes him gasp, and I smile against him, completely pleased by how the head of the military, as serious and stoic as he always is with everyone else, becomes so vulnerable, so defenseless under my touch. Mercilessly, I continue, and his agitated breathing quickly turns into a low grunt, deeper and deeper as I raise intensity.</p><p>The elevator door finally opens again, and James takes a step back to get us out. A groan escapes my lips, because I instantly miss the weight of his chest pinning me against the mirror. My hands finally let go of his hair, but I don’t want to stop touching him and I’m incapable of keeping them still, so they travel down his neck. For some reason, untying a tie is even trickier than actually tying it, and I get frustrated soon – I click my tongue, and James exhales a subtle, amused snort.</p><p>“Don’t laugh at m… – ” I start, frowning, but my whine vanishes when he crashes his lips against mine again, and suddenly, I don’t have anything to complain about anymore. His left hand slides under my dress to stroke my thigh, gently, teasingly, and I bite my lip to muffle a moan – but he hears me anyway, and huffs. I’m blushing, and even with my tights on, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind; by the time I finally manage to make my way through the dizziness of my head and get his tie loose, we’ve made it to his door.</p><p>
  <em>God. We’re already here.</em>
</p><p>He leans over just enough for my feet to finally touch the floor – my legs are shaking and they fail me for a second, so I have to grab his arm for support until I can finally stand for myself. I feel my heart beating on every inch of my skin, and I want, I <em>need</em> to feel his.</p><p>“Are you okay?” He asks.</p><p>“Yes.” I pant. “Just… just open the door already.”</p><p>He looks at me for a brief moment, slightly hesitant, but he finally draws the key from his pocket – as soon as the door is unlocked, I, needy as I’ve never been and smoldering with yearning, grab his gloved hand and pull him inside; then, I place my index finger over his chest to guide him backwards, and he raises his arms a little, defenseless – the wooden closet shakes a bit when his back crashes against its surface.</p><p>“<em>Weiss</em>” he sighs, looking me in the eye, “I don’t want to disapp – ”</p><p>I grab his jacket and pull hard, making him bend towards me – my kiss makes his words die at the corners of his lips, and they never tasted so sweet. Not willing to separate from his breath, from his warmth, I start to unbutton his uniform – James’ jacket falls to the floor only a moment before his only remaining glove does, too; and his shirt follows them not long after.</p><p>I take half a step back to look at him, with a content smile lighting up my face. I… I still can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe that all of <em>this</em> is happening – but it is, and he’s standing, <em>shirtless</em>, in front of me; and, honestly? <em>What a view</em>. It’s the third time I’ve seen <em>like this</em>, but it’s the first one that I feel entitled to touch him for more than just the brief second it takes to put him a band-aid on him. My heart pounds in my throat when I reach out for his bare chest, and my fingertips carefully trace the darkened scar that separates flesh and steel all the way down his body, until the barrier of his belt prevents me from going any further. My hand slides then behind his back and draws invisible, senseless loving words for him; the ones I thought had died when I summoned my knight for the first time. It turns out, they were still here – hidden, shattered, ripped –; little by little, I stitch them together over his skin. I stand on tiptoe to peck every inch of his chest, and it doesn’t take more than two kisses for his heavy breath to turn into moans – they get louder when I place tiny bites here and there. <em>God</em>, if this isn’t the most ardent sound I’ve heard in my entire life…</p><p>… and so, <em>he burns</em>.</p><p>But it’s not enough for me – it couldn’t be, for the only thing I <em>really</em> want is to see him <em>melt</em>.</p><p>I search again for his belt, blindly. It isn’t as tricky as a tie, so soon enough, his pants are loose; my heart skips a beat in anticipation, but what is my surprise when they roll down his legs, and –</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>“Weiss…” James exhales a sigh. “I… I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t let me speak.”</p><p>I lean my head to a side a little to look him in the eye – their light has faded, and he seems… resigned? Well, I have to admit that <em>this</em> isn’t what I was expecting – I mean, it’s not that I’ve ever… <em>uhm</em>…  wondered what was <em>under his pants</em> – but there’s no reason why it should mean it’s over.</p><p>“Touch me.”</p><p>He frowns, slightly, and looks back at me with a question in his eyes.</p><p>“Do you still – ”</p><p>“<em>Touch me, </em>James<em>.</em>” I demand.</p><p>A spark in his pupils, a subtle smile on his face, and I’m being carried to his queen size bed – it’s even bigger than the one that’s in my manor’s room. My cape, spread over the mattress, makes it seem like I’m floating in the middle of the sky, and I feel like I’m the brightest star of them all just because of the way he’s looking at me – I burn brighter when his lips crash over mine once again, breathing me in. James’ hands look for a way to get rid of the barrier that separates my body from his touch, and my trembling hands guide him to the zipper – kindly, with his eyes silently asking for the permission he already has, he frees me of my dress, and the rest of my clothes fall to the floor not long after. I’m blushing like hell, but thank god that I’m finally free of their burden.</p><p>And he… He just <em>smiles</em>, and I’m blown away with how handsome, how big and imposing – and yet, how soft he looks.</p><p>
  <em>Yes, even more when he’s undressed.</em>
</p><p>Kiss by kiss, he traces constellations over my neck, my collarbones, my chest – he takes his time here; his tongue, a gentle brush, and every part of me tingles, every shiver drives me more and more into madness. I pant his name as a gift wrapped in silk just for him, and I gasp, I moan senseless prayers as he makes his way down, because in no world would I have imagined that the cold of his metal putting my fire away and the blaze of his skin making the flames reborn could make my body feel so <em>good</em>. My thighs tremble in anticipation when he places his fingertips between them, and I beg him because I <em>can’t</em> wait anymore, and gently, so gently – a wave of pleasure shakes me whole, and another, and another; the tide, completely at the mercy of the full moon reflecting on my skin – it rises, and rages, and crashes against the cliff; and I, standing on the edge of the world, let myself fall and drown into a sea of sighs. It’s funny, how they used to call me the Ice Queen; and yet, here I am. All of the ice that once covered my eyes, my skin, my heart, every icicle that surrounded me and kept me from any harm – all of it melts, and fades, and dissolves under his touch, and I feel like I’m falling apart; with his very own hands, James builds me up again, and again, and again, until I can't handle it anymore, and I explode - the star dies with a blast, the mirror shatters in pieces, and I cry his name with the last of my breath.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The morning after - Ironwood's POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Weiss’ legs are still trembling a little when I get up from the floor, and my heart skips a beat at the view. Closed eyes; panted breath; the moon on her skin; the starry cape beneath her; a satisfied smile on her face… What am I looking at, if not a fallen angel carved in snow that melted over my bed? Carefully, I lean over the mattress – she quivers a little when the metal grazes her, and bits her lower lip before I kiss her. It’s slow and deep, and I breathe her in – it’s like every inch of her skin was sugar-coated, and I believe I could spend an eternity hooked on her and I wouldn’t get bored of her taste.</p><p>But – she will get a cold if I do, and that I cannot allow.</p><p>“I liked it.” She whispers when my lips part hers, and her smile makes a shiver run down my spine.</p><p>“I’m glad.” I concede. I truly, <em>truly</em> am. The last thing I wanted to do was to disappoint her, but she seems to be pleased; and if she is, I am, too.</p><p>I get up from the bed and pick her clothes off the floor; then, I approach the closet and carefully put them in a hanger, and then I put my pajamas on. I search in every drawer for something that Weiss can sleep in, but there’s not a single one of my garments that could fit her and I don’t have that many clothes that aren’t uniforms, so I just take one of the t-shirts I use when I exercise – it’s plain grey with the Atlas’ logo in blue, but it’s comfortable enough.</p><p>“Here. Put this on.”</p><p>The look Weiss gives me when I hand it to her is priceless.</p><p>“What?” I ask, holding back a smile. I’ve… kind of grown fond of how she always has something to complain about – even the slightest detail that nobody notices or cares for, she does, and she will point it out if she doesn’t like it. It’s like playing the lottery – you never know what will annoy her this time. It might be a tiny stain on a carpet, or a book she doesn’t understand –  “<em>It’s not my fault if they didn’t explain it at Beacon!</em>”, she’d say. One morning, I even witnessed how she got angry at the sun for <em>shining way too brightly</em>. “<em>The light is going to make me go blind</em>”, she said. However, there’s one thing she has <em>never</em> complained about: the cake. And that, coming from a person that has a complaint for <em>everything</em> – that is a huge praise towards my baking abilities.</p><p>So… what will it be, this time?</p><p>“You didn’t have anything <em>less</em> <em>fancy</em>?” She scoffs, raising an eyebrow. “This is even worse than the Academy uniform.”</p><p>Oh. So the sleepwear isn’t <em>elegant</em> enough for her. I try not to laugh, but it’s difficult to contain myself when she’s just… there, <em>naked</em>, staring at me in disgust over a t-shirt.</p><p>“It’s just for sleeping, Weiss.” I sigh, amused. “Nobody’s going to see you <em>actually</em> wearing it.”</p><p>“Still. I refuse to sleep in <em>that</em>.”</p><p>Gods, how I’ve missed her death stares – almost as much as her voice.</p><p>“What do you normally use, then? Pajamas? You can wear mine if you want to, but it won’t fit you either, and, well” I say, slightly shrugging, “it’s not fancier than the t-shirt.”</p><p>“<em>Pajamas</em>?” She frowns. “<em>Who</em> do you take me for? I sleep in a – ” A sneeze, and she rubs her nose, “silk nightgown.”</p><p>Of course she does.</p><p>“I’m afraid I don’t have any of those here” I smile, “but I’ll be back in a moment.” I say, and I leave the t-shirt over the edge of the bed. She gives me a look of reproach before I head to the door.</p><p>“Where are you going now?” She pouts.</p><p>“To your quarters. I’ll go get your nightgown before you catch a cold.” The door opens with a low creak, but when I’m about to get out of the room –</p><p>“Hey – wait!” Her voice makes me stop on my tracks. I turn around, and she looks as if something was swirling in his head. A few seconds later, she finally gives in with a resigned sigh. “Don’t leave. I’ll wear the t-shirt.”</p><p>Still grumbling under her breath, she gets off the bed and puts it on; then, she approaches my floor mirror.  The sight of her wearing one of my clothes brings a wave of warmth to my chest, and I smile, amused, because the t-shirt is so big on her that it even covers her knees.</p><p>“It actually suits you like a nightgown.” I point out, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“Ha – ha.” She rolls her eyes, but a <em>very</em> subtle smile on her face is lighting up her cheeks. Carefully, she takes her crown comb off and starts undoing her ponytail, and the moment her hair falls over her, my heart skips a beat. I had never seen Weiss with her hair down before, and she looks… well, I don’t think that there’s a word that could describe it, for every one of them would fall short – you have to witness that kind of beauty just to believe it exists. It’s… it’s like a moonlight waterfall kissed her shoulders and made its way down her back, down her waist; and I can only gaze at her, speechless, as she delicately untangles every lock with her own hands.</p><p>I get next to her and hug her from behind, tightly, and place a kiss on the top of her head. In the mirror, I see how she closes her eyes, leans into my arms, and smiles; and for a moment, I wish we could walk right through the glass just so we could live on the other side; I wish we could become our own reflections, away from the world, together, and safe from any harm – but mirrors are fragile and break easily, for they’re nothing but mere illusions of what could be, but won’t, if it shatters. I will not allow it – I would rather face a thousand armies and fight a million wars for a world worth living in, a <em>real</em> world where Weiss can be safe, and happy, whether it is by my side or not.</p><p>I just… I just hope she chooses to stay.</p><p>My bed feels less like an abyss and more like a shelter when we both get in and Weiss cuddles me – my arms around her, her head resting upon my chest, and I wonder... can she hear in the way my heart beats what I don’t dare to say out loud? Is she aware that it was her who melted its metal walls and turned it back to life? Does she know that I had lost every trace of what it meant to be human until she reminded me how it was to <em>feel</em>? Does she know just how much I owe her? How much I… I <em>love</em> her?</p><p> As if she could hear my thoughts, she rubs her cheek against me, closes her eyes, and exhales a peaceful sigh. Little by little, as I gently stroke her hair, her breath grows calmer, and just when I think she has fallen asleep, her voice, soft as a whisper, makes its way through the silence.</p><p>“You know… It… feels bad that I’m the only one who got to enjoy it.”</p><p>“Oh, but I enjoyed it.” I say, in the same low tone of voice.</p><p>“You know what I mean.” She yawns.</p><p>My fingertips don’t abandon her when I turn my head to look out of the window, thinking about what she just said. After what happened to my body, I didn’t really think I’d have any use for that, uhm… <em>part</em>. That’s why I didn’t ask for it, when – But maybe, she’d like it if I…? <em>Hm</em>.</p><p>I… I don’t know. Should I…</p><p>
  <em>Should I pay Pietro a visit?</em>
</p><p>When I turn to her again, Weiss is already asleep – her quiet breathing, a soothing lullaby in the middle of the night. I put my thoughts away and I simply look at her, smiling placidly in dreams. I still can’t believe she’s here. I still can’t believe she wants me. I can’t believe that, in the end, everything worked out. I feel grateful, and even though I don’t dare admit it, for I fear it to be just as ephemeral as everything good in life is – I feel happy, too. Holding her in my arms makes me think that I’m the luckiest man in the world, and I just close my eyes, rejoice in her warmth, and sigh a smile. A last thought, before I join her in dreams:</p><p>Isn’t it beautiful, to <em>feel</em>?</p><p>-----------</p><p>I wake up to Weiss carefully brushing a lock of hair awake from my face, and my sleepy eyes meet hers, gleaming icy blue. The light that comes through the window makes me blink a couple of times – it’s long past sunrise already.</p><p>“Morning, James.”</p><p>
  <em>Gods. If she isn’t the prettiest sight I’ve ever woken up to.</em>
</p><p>“Morning, Weiss.” I smile.</p><p>Slowly, she leans towards me – her hair falls upon my face, and she giggles and blows it away before kissing me. I mumble a soft moan under my breath when her lips touch mine, and, lovingly, I brush her cheek with my human hand. <em>I think I never, ever want to leave this bed</em> –</p><p>“Can we to go to the training room after breakfast?”</p><p>I exhale a sigh.</p><p>
  <em>Unless she wants to.</em>
</p><p>“As you wish.” I concede.</p><p>And, resigned, I place a kiss on her forehead before getting off the bed; then, I step into the bathroom to wash my face and shave my stubble. I find it strange that, this morning, my lungs feel less heavy than I’m used to, and my hands don’t seem to shake as much. I smile, because I know that, somehow, it’s thanks to Weiss. Nonetheless, my fingers still tremble a little, and I inevitably end up cutting myself – a hiss escapes between my teeth, and a couple of seconds later, Weiss’ head sticks out of the door frame, frowning.</p><p>“Let me help you with that.” She says.</p><p>“Weiss, there’s really no need to. I’ll be finished in a minute.”</p><p>“Don’t be stubborn.” She demands, and takes the razor away from my hands. I bend down just enough so that she can reach my face without having to stand on tiptoe, and the blade slides along my skin so smoothly that it makes me wonder when was the last time that I didn’t have cuts all over my cheeks after shaving.</p><p>Weiss’ gesture of concentration is very sweet. Narrowed eyes, a wrinkle between her eyebrows, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips… and suddenly, I’m spellbound. Carefully, Weiss cleans the blade under the water stream – she’s still wearing my t-shirt, and her long hair is as messy as it can be; still, I can’t take my eyes off her. Even out of her usual dresses and in an oversized shirt, she’s breathtaking, for it’s not the pretty clothes what make her shine – it’s… it’s just her, on her own, the one who lights up the room.</p><p>“You’re beautiful.” I murmur.</p><p>“Don’t speak, or I’ll cut you and it’ll be your fault.” She warns.</p><p>I snort a soft laugh, and almost instantly, I feel the razor cutting down my flesh. Why is it that she’s always the one holding a blade?</p><p>“<em>Ouch.</em>”</p><p>“I told you!” Weiss clicks her tongue, and looks at me in disapproval. “Don’t move!”</p><p>So I simply gaze at her in silence and let her do her thing. Once she’s done, I stand up again and look in the mirror. There are only two cuts on my cheeks: the one I made to myself, and the one she – I caused by not keeping my mouth shut, as she warned. They are quite shallow, so they don’t even bleed, and none of them stings. It’s actually a new record, considering that there are normally between seven and ten when I’m the one who uses the razor.</p><p>“No more ugly little paper squares on your face.” She smiles.</p><p>“Thank you, Weiss.” I smile back, and give her a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Can I do something in return? Brush your hair, maybe?”</p><p>“<em>Hm…</em>” She murmurs, dubitative. “Alright. But be careful.”</p><p>I nod, and search one of the drawers for a comb, and as gently as I can, I start untangling her hair. I takes a while, because it’s really long and I don’t want to hurt her by pulling way too hard, but little by little, I manage to tame the snarled mess. Once every tangle has disappeared, I grab a brush, and it slowly helps her hair take the shape of a waterfall again.</p><p>“Shall I do your ponytail, too?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>She hands me her hair tie, but I don’t know how to do it properly. You’re supposed to take the hair all the way up, I believe; and then…</p><p>
  <em>Oops.</em>
</p><p>Now her hair is entangled with my prothesis.</p><p>“<em>Ou… Ouch</em>! What are you doing!?” She groans.</p><p>“Your hair got into my finger joints.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>Gods</em>.” Her voice, frozen in terror. “This is it. I’m going to go bald.”</p><p>“No, you’re not.” I say, trying my best to sound calm while I untangle her hair from the metal as carefully as I can. Weiss sighs in relief when I finally put my hand away. “Sorry. I… I have never done a ponytail.”</p><p>“Never? Like, <em>not even once</em>?” She asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the head of the military, but you don’t know how to do a ponytail?”</p><p>“I see no correlation between one another.” I respond. “As far as I know, nobody teaches you how to do your hair at the military.”</p><p>“It’s not that difficult, James.” She scoffs. “Instead of your metal hand, you can use the brush to help put the hair up.”</p><p>She guides me through the process, which I find to be brief – yet, a little tricky. However, with more or less success, it’s finally done.</p><p>“Well<em>…</em> <em>At least you</em> <em>tried</em>.” She says with mockery.</p><p>“It’s terrible. I know.” I snort a laugh and shake my head. Loose hairs here and there, small bumps where I haven’t brushed well enough… How can anyone mess up a simple ponytail so badly? “It’s even more crooked than the one you make yourself.”</p><p>“Excuse you, mine's not <em>crooked</em>! Its being to one side is <em>perfectly intentional</em>.” She seethes, as if it was obvious. <em>Interesting fashion choices</em>, I think to myself. I couldn’t say why, but still, it suits her. “Anyway, it’s not <em>that</em> bad for the first time. Besides, nobody but you will see me, so… who cares. You’ll get better with practice.”</p><p>A soft smile, a kiss on her cheek, and we get out of the bathroom. When I open my wardrobe in order to get dressed, Weiss sneaks behind me to take a look inside.</p><p>“Is that your tie collection?” She asks with interest. “Can I see?”</p><p>“It is.” I say, and I slightly move to a side so she can take a better view. “I have to say that I’m quite proud of it.”</p><p>“Wow, there are <em>a lot</em>.” The surprised tone of her voice makes me laugh softly. “And you have them sorted by colors. How am I not surprised?”</p><p>“Well, it’s pleasing to the eye.” I shrug. “And they’re easier to be found.”</p><p>“How many do you have?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I lost count at a hundred.”</p><p>“<em>A hundred!?</em> I thought you meant like thirty, or so. James, I’m sorry to tell you, but you don’t have a collection. You have <em>a</em> <em>problem</em>.”</p><p>“Oh, you think so?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “How many dresses do <em>you</em> have at the manor? I’d bet my left arm that it’s more than a hundred.”</p><p>“That’s – that’s none of your business.” She protests, but she’s already told me everything I needed to know.</p><p>“Well, seems I’m not the only one who ‘<em>has a problem’</em>.” I laugh. “See, I bought my first tie when I entered Atlas Academy as a student – it’s that one.” I point at one of the ties – it’s black and pearl, embellished with a navy dot pattern. I still like it to this day, but it’s a bit… <em>bold,</em> so I don’t wear it that much. Fashion has changed since I was in my twenties, I suppose; or, maybe, it’s me the one who has changed. “Since then, the collection has only increased.”</p><p>Weiss runs her hand over the tie racks with interest, and they tinkle when they hit one another.</p><p>“Still… The one I chose for you is the most beautiful.”</p><p>She’s absolutely right.</p><p>“I agree.”</p><p>By the time I finish getting ready, Weiss is sitting on the edge of the mattress, waiting, but she’s still in my t-shirt.</p><p>“I thought you wanted to go to the training room.”</p><p>“I do, but I want to wear another dress. The one from yesterday is way too wrinkled for my liking, <em>thanks to you</em>.” She leans her head to a side and smiles mischievously. It’s true that I could have been more careful with the way I carried her to my quarters, but I was, uh… <em>being</em> <em>distracted</em>. “Care if I stop by my room before breakfast?”</p><p>“Of course not. I’ll be preparing your tea in the meantime.”</p><p>“Thank you, James. But, before we leave” she says, and reaches for me, “could you not wear your gloves today? I like to see your hands.”</p><p>“As you wish.”</p><p>She smiles, pleased, and carefully takes my gloves off; then, she places a loving kiss on each of my palms. Even though I can’t sense with my right hand how soft her skin is; even though my prosthetics know nothing but cold and loneliness, she makes sure to press her lips <em>just a little harder</em> against the metal, and I… I can <em>feel</em> her kiss. The warm sensation that suddenly fills my chest makes me choke up.</p><p>
  <em>I can’t believe she’s real.</em>
</p><p>-------</p><p>As the elevator makes its way down, I stare at our reflection – me, in a perfectly ironed uniform; Weiss, wearing nothing but my t-shirt. I smile quietly, amused by the contrast between our outfits, and an idea suddenly pops up in my mind. </p><p>“Would you like me to make some spare room in my closet for you? You wouldn’t have to leave my quarters wearing a t-shirt again.”</p><p>Weiss turns her head to stare at me, with an astonished look on her face.</p><p>“Do you want me to… carry my belongings… up to your quarters?”</p><p>“No – no, of course not. I would be the one carrying them. I can move your whole closet and put it next to mine, if you don’t want to share – ”</p><p>“No, James.” She says. “I mean… do you want me to <em>move in</em> to your room?”</p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p>I hadn’t thought about the implications of “<em>moving her closet into my room</em>” when I suggested it, but… getting to sleep every night by Weiss’ side, and then waking up to the soft brush of her lips over mine?</p><p>“Yes. Do you? Or… Is it – is it too soon? Maybe it’s too soon. I mean – I’m sorry if I –”</p><p>She places her hand over mine, and her cheeks bloom red when she smiles.</p><p>“I would love to, James.”</p><p>
  <em>Just how did I get so lucky?</em>
</p><p>-------</p><p>I’ve never understood why there are always so many different kinds of tea in the kitchen pantry, when almost none of the students used to drink it – at least, not that I know of. And I would probably have, since I had breakfast in a different table every morning, only to be able to know them a little better; to have a few words with them before the classes started. The predominant aroma in the morning was freshly made coffee. Other students used to drink chocolate milk, and some others preferred juice. But, tea? I think I can only remember four or five students, and Winter. I suppose that it makes sense that Weiss likes it, too.</p><p>While I look at the giant collection of tea bags, I ask myself the same question as every morning: which one should it be<em>?</em> Weiss likes atlesian white tea the most – “<em>one and a half teaspoons of sugar, not more!</em>” –, but variety is key.</p><p>I think she might like wild berries tea today.</p><p>It’s strange, seeing my own hands as I put a pan of water on to boil, and not a piece of white cloth hiding my metal away. Even though I’m aware that everyone in Atlas knows of my condition, I fear that people would be somehow afraid of me if I leave my prosthetics exposed. That’s the reason why I wear gloves for the most part of the day, and I only take them off when I finally get in bed. But Weiss… she said she liked to see my hands, so I’ll try to cover them less often from now on.</p><p>A very familiar voice greets me when I step out of the kitchen – a voice I wouldn’t expect to hear just the morning after I spent the night with Weiss, and the shock almost makes me drop the cups I’m carrying.</p><p>“Good morning, sir.”</p><p>“Winter. How is that you’re here?”</p><p>Her eyes get hooked on my hands as I leave Weiss’ cup of tea and my coffee over the nearest table, and she frowns. Obviously, my metal hand is way too showy to be left unnoticed. By the look on her face, I suppose she’s wondering why I’m not wearing my gloves; however, she doesn’t ask anything about it.</p><p>“I’ve been calling you since dawn, but you wouldn’t pick up the scroll.” She says. “I have to speak to you. It’s about Mistral.”</p><p>“About Mistral?” I ask. “From the reports you’ve been sending me, I thought that everything was more or less under control. Has something happened?”</p><p>“I’m afraid that you’re correct, sir. There was an incident last night.”</p><p>“What… What happened?”</p><p>“Hey, James, I was thinking that – ” Weiss voice echoes in the cafeteria when she steps in, but she stops in her tracks when she realizes that I’m not alone. She’s no longer wearing my t-shirt; instead, she has changed into one of her many dresses. “Oh. Hello, Winter.”</p><p>“Weiss, I’ve told you already: you shouldn’t call the General by his first name.”</p><p>“Well, he’s not my boss.” Weiss responds, shrugging.</p><p>“Ladies…”</p><p>“You have to show him some <em>respect</em>.” Winter hisses; her voice is as sharp as her blade.</p><p>“Should I call you Miss Schnee too, then?” Weiss scoffs with sarcasm.</p><p>“Ladies, please.” I say, raising my voice over theirs. “There’s no reason to make a fight out of this, okay? I don’t mind being called by my first name.”</p><p>It’s not like Weiss hasn't done some other things that Winter would most likely consider… uh… <em>way worse </em>than calling me James.</p><p>Winter sighs and crosses her arms, resigned, but I can tell by the way she taps the floor with her foot that she’s not done yet. She leans her head to a side as she looks at Weiss, and her eyes narrow, ready to pull the trigger; before I can stop her, she has already fired the bullet.</p><p>“And what’s wrong with your hair today?”</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Gods.</em>
</p><p>“Winter, that’s <em>enough</em>.” I order, cuttingly. “Come on. Let’s go to my office.”</p><p>“My apologies, sir” she replies immediately, “but I need you to come to the military with me.”</p><p><em>Huh</em>. So it really is that serious.</p><p>Weiss look at me with concern in her eyes, and it hurts that I can’t just go and hug her tightly in front of Winter.</p><p>“Weiss, you can go to the training room later, if you still want to. I’ll join you as soon as we’re done. Alright?” I gift her a soft, subtle smile, and she nods her head, a little less worried. “There’s wild berries tea for today’s breakfast, and two little muffins over the counter waiting for you. Take them, if you want to. Enjoy.”</p><p>“Thank you, James.” She smiles.</p><p>Winter glances at her in disapproval, but she doesn’t add anything else; and with that, we get out of the Academy to head to the military.</p><p>“Do you know how her summoning is going, sir?”</p><p>“Yes. She has made great progress lately.” I don’t mention the giant knight because I suppose that Weiss will want to show it to her herself, given the time, and the summon is much too special to spoil the surprise.</p><p>“It was about time.”</p><p>“You’re too harsh on her, Winter.” I sigh.</p><p>“And, with due respect, sir; you’re way too soft.” She answers back.</p><p>“She’s just trying her best.”</p><p>“I know. I know she is, but… I just… I want her to be able to carve her own way.”</p><p>“She will. She looks up to you a lot, you know? With you as her role model, there’s no way she won’t succeed in whatever she wants to accomplish.”</p><p>Winter raises her sight to look at me, and there’s genuine gratitude in her eyes when she says:</p><p>“Thank you, sir.”</p><p>And the military complex door closes behind our back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The decision - Weiss' POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Here’s today’s lunch, Miss Schnee. I hope it’s to your liking.”</p><p>The man, dressed in the Atlas military uniform, hands me a bag with my food, and the aroma that comes from inside makes my stomach growl quietly. I smile at him, slightly embarrassed.</p><p>“It smells delicious. Thank you.”</p><p>He bows his head a little before turning around and heading back to the military, and I watch him go until he disappears into one of the towers that surround the academy. I look up at the nearest one, and I wonder… in which one of the five will James be now? Is he thinking about me, too?</p><p>I close the main entrance door with a sigh, and the only company I have as I make my way to the cafeteria is that of my own steps. Since James has returned to his duties as head of the military, I spend most of the day on my own. Needless to say, I don’t find it <em>particularly pleasant</em>. Not at all.   </p><p>That’s why I try to make the most of what little time we can spend together.</p><p>Even if it’s annoyingly early, I try to wake up at the same time as him, and I help him shave so he doesn’t have to go to the military with his face stained with blood or covered in tiny papers. I <em>hate</em> those tiny papers. He spends a few moments deciding which one of all his ties he’ll be wearing for the day, but he always ends up picking the tie I chose for him, the one that matches my cape – he says it’s a way to feel me close while he’s at work. We have breakfast together, and when he leaves, I return to bed for a little longer, until I finally feel rested enough and get ready to spend my morning in the training room. James is never here at lunchtime, but he always makes sure that, just like today, someone brings me lunch from the military mess hall. I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to distract myself by doing something useful, like training even more, or reading, or… <em>no</em>, I still haven’t learned how to cook – until James text me to say that his eternal, never-ending shift –<em>does it even count as a shift if you’re the head of the military…?</em>– is finally over. I always ask him which tower he’s in, and I get ready to pick him up, because I know that it makes him happy – even though, <em>for some reason</em>, Winter gives me a bad look every time she sees me waiting for him.</p><p>The truth is – I still don’t know why James returned to his duties so… <em>suddenly</em>. Neither him nor Winter will tell me anything –<em>“classified”</em>, as everything regarding the military is–, but it must be really serious if Winter can’t handle it on her own like she’s been doing for the last few months, while James has been recovering. I thought he was getting better –slowly, but steadily, or so they say–, but all the progress he was making seems to have just gone away the moment he went back to work. His hands have been especially shaky ever since, and when he lifts his eyes from the astronomy book he’s been reading before bed these last few days, I can see that their light has gone just a little darker. There’s something swirling around in his head, but he won’t tell me anything. And yes, I know there are some places where I simply cannot reach him, but still, I try my best to comfort him the best I can; even if it’s just… <em>that</em>, helping him shave, or picking him up at the military. Little things that may not seem very significant, <em>but</em> –</p><p>I finally make it to the cafeteria and open the bag with the food; inside, there’s a little note in James’ handwriting: “<em>I miss you.” </em></p><p><em>–</em>  <em>in a way, I know… that’s enough for him.</em></p><p>And, even though he never asks for help – I don’t know if it’s because he’s too proud to admit that he needs it, or because he genuinely still thinks he can do everything by himself, even after being shown that it’s <em>okay</em> that he can’t, and that everyone needs a rest every once in a while –, he always smiles softly at his own reflection when he sees there’s not a single cut on his skin.</p><p>And, in a way, that’s</p><p>
  <em>almost</em>
</p><p>enough for me.</p><p>I’ve been trying to ignore it, but now that I know there’s something big happening, something big enough for James to return to his duties so suddenly, there’s a feeling that won’t fade. The hallways remain empty for the most part of the day, and the silence makes my mind circle the same idea over, and over, and over: I want to be a part of whatever the hell is going on. That’s what I was training for at Beacon, isn’t it? That’s why I chose to be a Huntress: to take action, not to remain in an empty Atlas Academy, just waiting for…</p><p><em>For what now</em>, if nobody ever tells me anything?</p><p>And it – <em>god</em>, it hurts, because I love him. I do <em>love</em> him, and I know that my presence here brings him comfort; I know that he took me in, and he gave me company when I needed it most… but every day that passes, it feels lonelier, just watching the hours go by, knowing that I’m the only one who… well, who knows <em>nothing at all</em>.</p><p>And I don’t want this home we built to turn into another broken reflection of the Schnee Manor again.</p><p>I want to be of help.</p><p>----</p><p>I’ve only been waiting for two minutes when the tower door opens, and a little crowd of soldiers step out of the building before I spot him – his imposing figure, standing out above all of them. Immersed in a conversation with one of his men, he doesn’t realize that I’m here, so I step aside just enough to go unnoticed and take pleasure in gazing at him for a few moments.</p><p>Right now, James’ body language seems very different from what I’ve gotten used to since I’ve been living with him; instead, he looks much more similar to the General who was giving a speech to his soldiers in the ship that was taking me home, right after the fall of Beacon. Exhausted, yet still standing – not because he wants to, but because he <em>has to</em>. Because he’s been away from his duties for way too long; and still, not for as long as he needed to. I don’t know how much effort he puts into keeping his unbreakable, iron façade up, but it’s good that he doesn’t have to try so hard to pretend to be the strongest man on earth when he’s in my arms.</p><p>I love him for who he <em>is</em>, not for who he <em>has</em> to be.</p><p>And… well, he does the same with me.</p><p>“<em>Miss Schnee</em>.”</p><p>His eyes meet mine, and they flicker – a subtle shiver runs down my spine, just like every time he calls me <em>that</em>. We always refer to each other by our surnames when we’re near the military, because it wouldn’t be good for any of us if they found out that there’s… well, something between us. I guess they must have speculated enough already when they found out I was staying in the Academy with him, so there’s no reason to fuel whatever rumors might have spread. Still, I can’t explain how it makes me feel <em>now</em>, hearing those two words being dropped from his lips – it was sweet and polite before, when I was nothing more to him than Jacques Schnee’s second daughter. When feelings grew, it became painful, knowing that James was trying to keep his distance from me. But now that we share our nights and drink from each other’s lips, it feels… kind of arousing. Almost like <em>a game</em>.</p><p>“<em>General Ironwood</em>.”</p><p>And he smiles back at me.</p><p>I look around, searching for Winter – she’s never far from James, but she’s nowhere to be seen today. <em>Strange</em>.</p><p>“Where’s Winter?”</p><p>“She’s staying for a little longer today. She’s, uh…” He looks away for a second, trying to find a way to say it without giving away any classified information. “<em>Busy</em>.”</p><p>“Okay.” I smile, knowing that’s the most he can say. “Shall we go, then, <em>General</em>?”</p><p>“Of course.” He nods, and we walk away from the little crowd of soldiers and head to the Academy. The moment the door closes behind our backs, and away from the curious gaze of his men, James finally allows himself to lower his shoulders and exhale a long, exhausted sigh. It breaks my heart, seeing him like this. He seems more and more tired every day, and it doesn’t look like whatever is going on at the military is getting better any time soon. It must be arduous, having to get used to everything again so suddenly. I approach him carefully, and wrap my arms around him – I hope he finds comfort in my humble attempts to cheer him up, as clumsy as they might seem. There haven’t been many people who did the same for me when I was feeling like I was the loneliest person in the world, so I’m still learning how to do it; but I hope he knows that, even though he can’t talk to me about many things, he can still rely on me whenever he needs to.</p><p>I’m here –</p><p>
  <em>for now. </em>
</p><p>A pierce of guilt through my heart, and it deepens when he returns the embrace and sighs again; this time, full of relief.</p><p>I don’t really know how to do it, but I have to tell him how I feel. It’s like I’m always looking at the world through a one-way mirror, and the only thing I can see when I try to divine what’s beyond is my own reflection, waiting in a giant, empty white room. Even if I’m not a soldier, I’m a Huntress – well, strictly speaking, I was a Huntress <em>in training</em> until the Fall of Beacon; but classes are no more and I’m a skilled fighter anyway –, so there <em>must</em> be something I can do.</p><p>Right?</p><p>“I’ve missed you.” His voice, a whisper, as he places a tender kiss on the top of my head.</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>His right hand feels cold at touch – he hasn’t worn his gloves again since I asked him not to –, and I hold it in mine and pull gently, leading the way to the cafeteria. It’s probably better if I try to bring up the matter after he’s rested for a while.</p><p>“Did you get my note?” He asks.</p><p>“I did. It made my day, James. Thank you.” And it’s true, because as loneliness slowly carves its way through my chest as the day goes on, it fades away a little knowing that, even in his coming and going, he still thinks about me.</p><p>“You make my day.” The smile on his face is as soft as ever, and I blush a little at his response.</p><p>I guide him to one of the tables, and, with a gesture of my arm, I invite him to sit down.</p><p>“I’ll make dinner today.” I proclaim. Maybe if I say it with such determination, the knowledge of the art of cooking with suddenly manifest in my head.</p><p>“You can’t cook.” He laughs, softly.</p><p>“I can <em>try</em> to make something.”</p><p>“Weiss.” He calls my name, and raises his sight to look me in the eye. “I don’t mind cooking. I’m not tired.”</p><p>“You’re a<em> filthy liar.</em>” I declare. “And you’re staying here. Let me take care of it for once, okay?”</p><p>“Well, if you set something on fire, I trust you know what to do.”</p><p>I snort a soft, fake annoyed laugh and roll my eyes. A little bump on his arm – <em>ouch</em>, <em>wrong one</em> –, and I enter the kitchen.</p><p>It’s all chaos, and dirty plates, and opening and closing drawers, and not finding anything I need – or I believe I need, because who would know one needs to add pepper to the chicken for it to have some flavor – until I finally give up, turn down the stoves, and resign myself.</p><p>By the time I step out of the kitchen again, my voice is muffled behind a tower of toasts taller than my head. It’s nothing fancy, but you know what? At least it’s edible, and that’s pretty much acceptable for something that has been cooked by me.</p><p>Although I doubt “<em>cooked</em>” is the correct way to say it.</p><p>“You know? I heard once that Vacuans sometimes have breakfast for dinner.” I’ve obviously never heard such thing, but I have to make something up to justify myself. James raises his eyebrow, and so it becomes clear that he doesn’t believe a word of what I just said.</p><p>“I heard all the noise.” He smiles.</p><p>Oops. <em>Caught</em>.</p><p>“I tried, okay?” I pout, and leave the plate over the table. The tower of toasts staggers, unstable, and I glance at it with a deadly stare. As it if had heard my unspoken threat –“<em>behold, for I’ll eat you whole if you dare fall off – but if you don’t, I’ll do it anyway</em>”–, it finally remains still. “This is the best I can do. If you’re still hungry when we’re done, I’ll make more. Now –” I say, and push the plate across the table until the tower is in front of him “eat, before they get cold.”</p><p>James looks at me – he smiles as he reaches for my hand, and places a gentle kiss on its back.</p><p>“Thank you, Weiss.”</p><p>I nod, and return a shy smile before taking the seat in front of him. I’m a little worried about telling him what I’ve been wanting to since he returned to his duties, and that kind of takes my hunger away; so I just take the toast at the top, spread some strawberry jam over it, and give it tiny, little bites. By the time I’ve finished it, half the tower is already gone.</p><p>“God, you really were hungry.”</p><p>“Yes.” He blushes, slightly ashamed. “I’m sorry if I seem impolite; I was <em>starving</em>. I don’t really have much time to eat while I’m at work.”</p><p>And yet, even if it was just a minute, he still made some time to write me a note to make sure I knew he was thinking of me.</p><p>“Don’t worry for that.” I dismiss. “It’s nice to see you like what I made, even if it’s just... well, <em>plain</em> <em>toasts</em>.”</p><p>James smiles subtly and takes another one. I look at him for a minute –just spreading some jam over his toast, devouring it in the blink of an eye, and repeating the process–, as I debate myself whether I should do it now or wait <em>just a little longer. </em>A couple of days, maybe?</p><p>Well… no. Who do I want to fool? The more I wait, the worse I’ll feel, and the more difficult it’ll get. There’s no use in delaying it anymore, just waiting for a better opportunity what will most likely not happen; this chance is probably as good as it gets. So… time to do it, I guess. I take a deep breath, and when I finally gather enough courage –</p><p>“James, I have to talk to you about so… ”</p><p>– a loud throat clearing echoes in the cafeteria, interrupting me. I turn my head and raise an eyebrow, not surprised even a little by whose are the eyes my gaze falls upon.</p><p><em>God</em>. How is it that we <em>always</em> forget to lock the entrance door?</p><p>“Winter?” James calls, disconcerted. “I thought you were packing your things for tomorrow.”</p><p>… Wait.</p><p>
  <em>What did he say?</em>
</p><p>“Are you leaving?” I ask, leaning my head to a side, frowning. “Where?” Winter parts her lips just a little, but my words come faster than hers: “– Wait, don’t tell me: <em>it’s classified.”</em></p><p>They leave my mouth in a more spiteful way than I intended, but, you know what? <em>Who cares</em>.</p><p>Winter squints at me before looking back at James.</p><p>“I have a matter to discuss with you, General.”</p><p>“Now?” He asks, surprised.</p><p>“So you’re only here because you have to talk to him? You weren’t even planning on saying goodbye?” I exclaim.</p><p>A sudden feeling of irritation shakes me, because why would none of them tell me that she was going away? I hate, <em>hate</em> always being the last one to find out about things, and I hate even more that it was on accident – that nobody was actually going to tell me anything at all. What was James planning to say when Winter was suddenly nowhere to be seen around the military complex? That she was sick? That she was taking some weeks off? The worst part is that I would have probably believed it – they would have fooled me, and I’m sick of secrets being kept from me. I <em>do</em> know that it’s information they’re not supposed to be giving away that easily, but she’s my sister, and her visits are already few and far between for them to turn into none at all.</p><p>“No, Weiss; because that’s how classified information works. You already knew that.” She says. Not a hint of guilt in her voice, or compassion – only plain cold that freezes my heart. I’ve spent a lifetime admiring her, wanting to be just like her, and what for? I feel betrayed, and hurt, because for once – <em>for once</em>, I really thought…</p><p>I thought she actually <em>loved</em> me.</p><p>Enough, at least, to say goodbye if she ever was to leave <em>again</em>.</p><p>Little Weiss would have appreciated a simple hug when her sister left for Atlas Academy, but she only got a pat on her back and a recommendation about how to keep her posture. Adult Weiss would appreciate a hug, too, if they were to part ways again; but I guess that, for Winter, it’s too much to ask.</p><p>It has always been.</p><p>“And yes, General, it <em>has to be</em> now.” She declares.</p><p>James looks at me, concerned, but right now I’m way too angry at both of them to care. He sighs, because he knows he can’t do anything about it at the moment; stares back at Winter, and asks:</p><p>“Do we need to go back to the military?”</p><p>“No, sir. Your office will do.”</p><p>“Alright.” James nods slightly, and gets up from the table – he turns around to give me one last worried look before they both leave the cafeteria.</p><p>But this is not how it ends.</p><p>Half a minute later, I leave too. When I make it to the elevators, the glowing number at the top of one of them says that it’s halfway to the top floor, and still going up.</p><p><em>Bingo</em>.</p><p>I press the button to call another elevator. Once inside, I take off my shoes and push them aside to the corner – my feet make no sound when I step out again and start my race through the hallway that leads to James’ office. The door is ajar – I carefully push it just enough to peek through the crack. I still can’t see them, but at least I can hear them better.</p><p>“… been any last minute changes?”</p><p>“No, sir. Mistral isn’t the reason why I’m here.”</p><p>
  <em>Mistral, huh? So that’s where she’s going? </em>
</p><p>“Oh. Then, why…?” He asks, puzzled.</p><p>“I believe you know it well.”</p><p>
  <em>Military gossip. Not my favorite, but that’s why I came here, after all. Come on, Winter. Tell me more about your mission.</em>
</p><p>“I’m afraid I don’t follow you.” He says.</p><p>
  <em>Wait. Is that… is that worry, in his voice? It was barely perceptible, but… Why is he…?</em>
</p><p>“I’m not blind, General; and neither is the rest of the military, or Atlas.”</p><p>“Winter, I –” He begins, but whatever he was about to say dies halfway through.</p><p>
  <em>I don’t get it. Is this about him not covering his hands anymore? But why would they even care at all?</em>
</p><p>“I’ve always had you for a decent, reasonable man; but <em>this</em>? Just… what were you thinking?”</p><p>“I thought you said you would never meddle in my life.”</p><p>“But it’s not your life we’re talking about, <em>James</em>! It’s my sister’s!”</p><p>
  <em>Oh,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>drat.</em>
</p><p>James sighs so deeply that I can hear it even from here.</p><p>“She could be one of your students.” Winter spits with disgust.</p><p>“Do you think I don’t know that?” He says, and his voice raises a little. “Do you really believe that there’s a day I don’t think about the consequences all of this could have if people found out?”</p><p>“Well, neither of you seem to really care that much, do you? You weren’t exactly being subtle. Her, picking you up from the military for two weeks in a row? Matching tie and cape? What are you, <em>fifteen</em>?” She hisses. “You call each other by your first names in private. Besides – from one day to the next, you’ve gone from having either your face full of cuts or a five-day stubble, to being clean-shaven every day. I’ve seen your hands: you still can’t do it on your own. And there’s your gloves, too. She asked you not to wear them, didn’t she? It would have never come from you. It’s a matter of time until everybody finds out.”</p><p>Silence falls upon the room; a silence so tense that it could be cut with a knife. That’s exactly what happens when Winter speaks again.</p><p>“You must leave her.”</p><p>“I’ve tried.” He sighs. “I’ve tried to keep my distance, but it only caused pain to both of us. You know me, Winter, and you know I’ve always tried to put up a good front to the rest of the city, and to the other kingdoms, and this… this isn’t it” he laughs lightly, sadly, and his voice becomes nearly a whisper. I have to strain to hear it. “I know it’s not the best for her. But I <em>won’t</em> leave her. Not unless she wants me to.”</p><p>The sound of an unsheathing blade; and through the crack, a white glow whose source I cannot see.</p><p>“Then I’ll have to make you.” She declares.</p><p>Okay, now <em>this</em> is the last straw. With my heart banging in my ears, I push the door wide open. Both of them turn to me at the same time, visibly surprised; but it’s not either of them that catches my eye – it’s the colossal Manticore, standing in the middle of the office and ready to charge against James.</p><p>It happens just like it did at the Schnee Manor concert – a sudden wave of rage that fills my chest and threatens to make it burst; it can’t, so it flows through my arms and escapes through my clenched fists. My semblance runs in my blood, and even though I don’t have Myrtenaster with me, I don’t need it – my own storm is strong and visceral enough on its own to summon the giant knight right behind me. It crosses the room, unhesitant, unrelenting; its blade raises above his shoulders, and with one single movement, it strikes.</p><p>The Manticore’s head falls off before everyone’s eyes.</p><p>“That’s enough.” I assert.</p><p>James is looking at me in awe, but Winter is still staring at my summon; its white glow, enhanced by the floating remnants of her fallen Manticore. She only saw its helmet when she came to train with me, but she hadn’t seen the Arma Gigas’ full form until now.</p><p>“You.” I say, making her turn to me. The perfectly still face she always wears is gone – instead, she seems totally disconcerted. I had never seen her like this before. “You’ve always been the one to encourage me to make my own choices, but now you try to decide for me behind my back? Do have any idea of how hypocritical that is? Everyone thinks they know better; everyone feels entitled to treat me as if was still a stupid little child who can’t take care of herself. I’ve spent all my life thinking you were the exception, but now I realize that I was wrong. I’m sorry, Winter, but how I live my own life or who I share it with is none of your business, and neither you, nor anybody has any say in it. I’m <em>sick</em> of <em>everyone</em> trying to choose what’s best for me.”</p><p>A brief pause, and I breathe deeply. James’ eyes and mine meet – his, gleaming with the greatest admiration; mine, burning with decision. I’ve already made my choice, but I have to say it out loud before all the sudden determination that has taken over me fades away. And, even though I’m certain that’s what I want to do; even though I’m certain that’s what my next step shall be… I still feel still a twinge in my heart when I declare:</p><p>“I’m going to Mistral, too.”</p><p>And just like it appeared, the gleam in his eyes is gone.</p><p>“Weiss –”</p><p>“Listen to me, James.” I interrupt, and it sounds more like a plead than like an order. I know it hurts him, but it isn’t easy for me either. “I don’t know what’s happening in Mistral, but whatever it is, it’s obvious that it’s big. If Winter leaves, and you have to take charge of everything on your own again, I’ll be even lonelier than I already am. I do nothing but train, and read, and wait for you to finish your shift...” I remain silent for a few seconds, and when I speak again, my voice is much softer. “You took me away from the jail the Schnee Manor was and you gave me a <em>real home</em>; and for that, I’ll always be grateful. I’m the happiest when you’re here, but you have to understand that I want to do more than just… <em>waiting</em>. I’ve always wanted to be a Huntress; but right now, I feel like I’m nothing but… well, just a girl in a tower. I feel useless. And I’d rather be of help.”</p><p>He looks down at the floor, and silence takes over the room.</p><p>
  <em>Come on, James. Come on.</em>
</p><p>When he raises his sight to look at me again, the spark in his eyes is back.</p><p>“Alright.” He concedes with a heavy sigh. “But – please, just wait for a couple more of weeks. I guess it’s not classified anymore for you, so… let me bring you up to date with everything that’s happened, okay? Let Winter and her people test the waters and establish a safe base before you arrive.”</p><p>The weight that was crushing my chest suddenly disappears, and all I can do in response is cross the room and wrap my arms around him.</p><p>“Okay.” I murmur against his chest.</p><p>“I know it’s your choice, Weiss, and I know I can’t stop you; so I won’t try to. Besides, it’s either this, or you sneaking away in one of the ships” he laughs, softly, and I smile and hug him tighter.</p><p>
  <em>God, I love him.</em>
</p><p>“Thank you for understanding.”</p><p>Yet <em>once again</em>, there’s a loud throat clearing that breaks the atmosphere. Frowning, I separate from James and look at her.</p><p>“You know, you really should go see a doctor.”</p><p>“I owe you both an apology.” She says.</p><p>
  <em>Well, that’s new.</em>
</p><p>“I suppose the reasons why I think all of this is wrong are clear – ”</p><p>“This doesn’t sound like an apology.” I call out.</p><p>“ – <em>but</em>” she raises an eyebrow, annoyed to have been interrupted.  “You were right. You’re not a child anymore. I don’t have the right to make your own choices, and for that I apologize. That doesn’t mean I <em>approve</em> of it, but… I guess I don’t <em>have to</em>.”</p><p>I nod slightly, and my expression relaxes.</p><p>“That thing you summoned… It was the Arma Gigas, wasn’t it?” Winter asks.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I’m proud of you, Weiss. I know I don’t say it that much, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think it.”</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>Warmth in my chest, burning throat, and tears coming to my eyes, but I manage to hold them back. Winter’s displays of affection aren’t very frequent, and this one has caught me particularly off-guard.</p><p>“And, General, I… I’m sorry I tried to attack you.”</p><p>“It wouldn’t have been the first time.” He smiles.</p><p>
  <em>Okay. Now, where’s the hug?</em>
</p><p>I open my arms a little, but she gives me a disgusted look; resigned, I let my arms fall to my sides. The Arma gigas turns its helmet towards me, then towards her, and in less than three seconds, it has reached her side and lifted her up into the air. Neither James nor I can hold back our laughter as Winter kicks, and shouts:</p><p>“Put me down, you goon!”</p><p>But the Arma Gigas ignores her complaints and brings her to my side. She doesn’t have time to react before getting caught in my <em>tenacious</em> embrace, from which she could never escape. She grunts a little, but grudgingly, she finally gives in.</p><p>What is my surprise when I feel another pair of arms around us.</p><p>“James?” I ask.</p><p>“I wanted to join.”</p><p>“This is... nice, actually.” Winter says.</p><p>But the embrace tightens even more, and now I can’t move. Apparently, the Arma Gigas has decided that it wants to be part of the group hug, too. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his sword standing dangerously close to James’ head.</p><p>“And now it’s dangerous.”</p><p>
  <em>But I feel like I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.</em>
</p><p>“Well, I’m afraid I have to leave.” Winter says, once the embrace unravels. “I haven’t finished packing up yet, and we leave first hour in the morning. I’ll see you in Mistral, Weiss. Please, try not to get caught in the meantime, will you?”</p><p>I snort a laugh and nod my head.</p><p>“Safe travel, Winter.”</p><p>“Keep me informed about everything that happens, alright?” James says.</p><p>“I will, General.”</p><p>She turns around, and I watch her disappear through the door. The moment I can’t hear her steps anymore, I allow myself to exhale a deep, heavy sigh.</p><p>“That was <em>a thing</em>.”</p><p>“Indeed.” He sighs, too, and rubs his temples with his fingertips.</p><p>I turn to him, and allow myself to get lost in his eyes once more. Even though they look a little sad, it seems like he’s at peace, just like me. It was a huge burden that I have taken off my chest, and its absence is nothing but relieving.</p><p>But what will he do, the moment I leave?</p><p>Will he let his demons break through his barrier again?</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>